A love that was doomed from the start

I loved you knowing from the very beginning that you were never going to be mine....not fully, not forever. And still… I stayed. Not because I didn’t see the truth, but because loving you felt like the only thing that ever made sense in a world that never did. It’s a different kind of pain when the love is real… but the ending is already written. You love me. I know you do. I felt it in the way your voice softened when you said my name, in the way you held me like you were afraid to lose me...yet never brave enough to truly keep me. I lived in the in-between. Not yours, not free. Just… there. Loving you quietly, completely, while pretending I was okay with being temporary in a life I wanted to be permanent in. Every moment with you felt like a countdown I couldn’t stop. Every “I love you” sounded heavier, because deep down, I knew one day it would turn into silence. And the cruelest part? We both knew it… but we kept choosing each other anyway. You were never mine to lose, but somehow… losing you still destroyed me. And now I’m left holding memories that feel too real to forget, but too painful to keep. I became a place you rested in… not a place you stayed. So if you ask me if I regret loving you? No. But I regret that loving you meant slowly losing myself… piece by piece… until there was nothing left of me but the echo of us.