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My Problem Is That I’m Always The One Who Loves More

My Problem Is That I’m Always The One Who Loves More

I didn’t learn from my mistakes. Giving too much of myself away was never a problem in the beginning, but that would soon change.

Not only with you, but in all my relationships before you. It feels so familiar, the same feeling over and over again.

It never changes, because I can’t stop it.

I can’t stop loving everything and everyone so deeply. Call me too weak, but I don’t see it as a weakness anymore.

In my eyes, those who take my feelings for granted are those who are weak.

Want to know why? It’s because they get scared. People are not used to being loved, so when they encounter someone who is willing to love them unconditionally, they either run aware or they simply take advantage of that person.

You took advantage of me.

You saw the possibility of finally having the upper hand in something and I, someone so naive, believed that your intentions were good.

That you were going to be there for me, because we were going to handle everything together. Or at least that’s what I thought.

Let me first remind you of the beginning of our relationship, and maybe you’ll remember those promises you gave me. You promised to love and cherish me because, as you said, there was no one like me in this world.

You promised to be there for me whenever I’d need you, but remember the time my grandmother died and you said that I was going to be fine even without you?

Well, guess what? I wasn’t fine! You also promised to never do anything harmful to me.

Well, I guess you’d changed your mind.

Just days after you gave me those promises, I was head over heels for you, as I thought you were the one I had been looking for my whole life. Looks like I was blind this whole time.

You didn’t bother to make me feel loved, everyone was more important than I was. To you, I was someone who would wait for you every night.

Actually, it would not matter if you came home at night—you knew that I would still be waiting for you because I really did love you.

Unfortunately, all you saw in me was someone who made you dinner and paid the bills.

I gave my whole self to you. Everything I was and had was yours and yours only.

You would leave me alone for days and I would never know where you’d been, until you would come home to me explaining that the bruises on your body weren’t from other women but from fights you got into.

Those excuses worked until the night you came home with lipstick on the back of your neck. It was too obvious, so I didn’t even bother asking why you came home so late that night.

To you and everyone else wondering, I don’t know why I stayed so long either.

I told myself that love needed to have sacrifices. My sacrifice was my pride.

The real question here is what did you bring to the table? Or did you never intend to bring anything? All you did was take from me, never giving anything.

Not even the day I finally decided to pack my stuff and leave—you didn’t even bother to try and talk to me about the reasons why I was leaving; probably because you knew why.

You knew that it was time for me to finally love myself more than I loved you.

Not that you cared, you had too many other lips to kiss to bother kissing me goodbye.

Loving and forgiving was never a burden for me until I met you and then I did it too much. I forgave you too many times because of the love I felt.

Now? I love myself too much to forgive ever again. The only person I really do have to forgive is myself. To forgive myself for letting all this happen.

The last thing I want to tell you is that I’m really sorry for the man who will truly love me.

I have a feeling that I won’t be able to love him the way I loved before but that’s probably because I got sick of being the one who loves and cares more in a relationship.