Fighting for what I thought was ours. Every step we took felt like another chapter of a story I was desperate to hold onto. Every day, we made it count, but all along, I was counting the hours, silently aware that our time was slipping through my fingers. You faded away like the setting sun, leaving me alone to navigate a world that had once felt so full with you by my side.
It wasn’t just the heartbreak that hit me—it was the silence that followed. The echo of your absence, the feeling of abandonment as I tried to piece together where things went wrong. And then, you had the audacity to ask? To wear your mask, pretending like you hadn’t walked away? As if you could waltz back into my life and start telling me what to do, how to feel? No. This time, I’m not coming back.
I swear, I tried. God knows I tried. I fed myself lies like they were sustenance, convincing myself that this would pass, that maybe you’d come around, that we’d find a way back to what once was. I painted a picture in my head of a time where I wouldn’t be the only one fighting, where I wouldn’t feel the weight of loneliness pressing down on my chest. But deep down, I was scared—terrified—of being the lonely one. The only one left clinging to something that had long since crumbled.
When you walked away, it felt like my world shattered. I couldn’t stop crying, couldn’t stop the wave of pain that tore through me. I broke ties with everything familiar, wandered aimlessly, hoping to find some semblance of myself amidst the ruins. Day after day, I roamed, searching. For what, I wasn’t even sure. A stranger, maybe. Or perhaps the stranger was me. I had lost myself somewhere along the way, and now, every step I took felt like I was drifting further and further from the person I used to be.
You don’t get to care now. Not now that I’m figuring out how to pick up the pieces of my broken self, how to navigate the wreckage you left behind. You had your chance. You could have stayed, but you didn’t. And now, I’m realizing that I don’t need you. I don’t need the false comfort of your presence or the illusion of what we had. I’m stronger than that, and I’m learning that maybe I’m better off without you. Can’t you see? You don’t get to decide anymore. You can let me be.
Because here’s the truth: I swear I tried. I tried so hard to keep up with the lies, to make myself believe that somehow, we could fix this. But liberation—it came when I stopped trying. It came when I stepped to the other side of my pain and saw the reality for what it was. I had always been the only one fighting. I had always been the one holding on while you let go. And now? I’d rather be the lonely one than the one who’s constantly chasing after a love that never really existed.
I cried, I screamed, I raged against the storm inside me, trying to make sense of it all. But now that the storm has passed, I can see clearly. You never really cared. The problem wasn’t us—it was me. I was scared. Scared of being alone, scared of facing the world without you by my side. But now, I realize that being alone isn’t the worst thing. The worst thing was staying in a relationship that made me feel alone even when you were there.
So here I stand, on the other side of that fear. I’m no longer scared of being the lonely one. In fact, I’ve learned that there’s a certain kind of peace in solitude, a strength that comes from standing on your own. I’d rather be the lonely one—because in my loneliness, I’ve found myself again. I’ve found my voice, my strength, my freedom. And that’s worth more than anything you could have ever given me.
Now, I know that happiness doesn’t come from being with someone. It comes from being at peace with yourself. And I’m happier as the lonely one than I ever was as the only one fighting for something that was never really mine.
Because all along, I had been the only one. I’d always be the only one. So now, I’d rather be the lonely one.