I always wanted it to be you

It's a strange and often painful experience, isn't it? To carry this deep feeling for someone, to know in your heart, 'I always wanted it to be you,' even when reality points in a different direction. I’ve found myself pondering why some connections leave such an indelible mark, why a 'promise unfulfilled' can echo in your mind for so long. It’s not about regret, not entirely, but more about acknowledging a profound 'what if' that lingers in the quiet moments. I’ve learned that sometimes, the most poignant love stories aren't the ones with a happy ending, but the ones where you genuinely wished for it to be different. The idea of a 'lover unreturned' isn't just about someone not reciprocating feelings; it's about the future you envisioned, the shared laughter, the quiet comforts that never came to be. It’s a space in your heart reserved for a particular person, a space that remains unfilled by them, yet still holds their imprint. This isn't about being stuck in the past, but about understanding the depth of human connection and how some bonds, even unmaterialized, shape us profoundly. Dealing with these emotions can be tough. I remember countless nights wondering if I should just let go, if holding onto that 'just know I always wanted it to be you' sentiment was healthy. What I've realized is that it's okay to acknowledge these feelings. It’s okay to mourn the loss of a potential future. But it’s also important to differentiate between cherishing a memory and letting it consume your present. I've tried to reframe it: instead of a burden, it's a testament to my capacity to love deeply. That person, even if we don't end up 'together,' taught me something invaluable about my own heart. For anyone else navigating this, I’ve found comfort in writing down my thoughts, in allowing myself to feel the sadness without judgment. It’s a healing journey, as the hashtags say, one where you slowly but surely learn to carry these experiences with grace. It’s about accepting that some beautiful connections are meant to be cherished as memories, not necessarily as companions for the path ahead. And in that acceptance, there's a different kind of peace. It's not about forgetting them entirely, but about remembering yourself, and the journey you're still on. It truly is a unique kind of love, one that exists in the space between what was and what could have been. It's a quiet strength, a knowing that you loved with all your heart, even if the outcome wasn't what you hoped for. And knowing that someone, somewhere, understands this feeling makes it a little less lonely. Finding ways to channel these emotions, whether through creative outlets, self-care, or simply allowing yourself time to process, is key to moving forward with an open heart rather than a guarded one. After all, isn't that what true healing is all about?