All I have ever wanted was to unconditionally be loved back
I thought I was in love until I finally stopped being delusional.The hardest thing to admit is that maybe I was alone in this so-called relationship the entire time.
Edward and I have known each other for six years. Six long years of confusion, toxicity, hope, pain, and me constantly trying to see the good in someone who slowly became unrecognizable to me. We both graduated from UCU, and from the moment I met him, he was the kind of person who could light up a room effortlessly. Funny, charming, full of life. An amazing cook who prepared food with so much passion and care. Those were the parts of him I fell in love with.
But now, after all these years, I look at him and feel terrified by the version of him I never wanted to see.
He turns 30 this month, yet life still feels like one big joke to him. No ambition. No purpose. No sense of responsibility. Still comfortable under his mother’s roof, still surrounded by people who encourage stagnation instead of growth. An engineer with a postgraduate qualification from UMI, yet completely comfortable being directionless. I kept making excuses for him. I thought maybe it was his friends influencing him. Maybe he just needed time. Maybe love would inspire him to become better.
But love cannot save someone who has no desire to save themselves.
What hurts the most is that I genuinely loved him. Deeply. Patiently. I saw potential in him that he never even tried to see in himself. While I was worried about building a future, becoming successful, creating stability, and making something meaningful out of my life, he was busy wasting time like tomorrow didn’t matter.
And maybe that’s why we stopped understanding each other.
I am terrified of failing in life. I want more for myself. I believe that if something belongs to me, I should work hard for it. I want security, purpose, growth, and a partner who sees life seriously enough to build with me. But every time I tried talking to him about life, goals, or responsibility, I became “the girl who complains too much.”
Meanwhile, he disappears with his friends, ignores my calls, ignores my messages, and makes me feel like asking for the bare minimum is asking for too much.
No effort. No reassurance. No affection in public. No emotional security. Not even a simple birthday message from the man I have stood beside for years. Yet somehow my ex remembered. The irony hurt more than I can explain.
And the painful truth is… I kept loving someone who only wanted to be loved, but never truly knew how to love me back.
I am slowly detaching now, not because I stopped loving him, but because I finally realized that love alone is not enough to keep breaking my own heart.