I never promised that you would love everything that spilled from my pretty, little lips.

I never said that I would make life or even love easy; in fact, I never made any promises except that I knew I would love you forever.

Perhaps it seems counterintuitive, but I did what I did, I said what I needed to, and I pushed you away not because of hate, anger, or any other emotion that would be so easily placed upon people when the very thing we held so dear goes up in flames—but because of love.

It takes a special kind of love to do what needs to be done. To say the harsh words, to know that together is not where we’re meant to be in this moment. The greatest love is the one that will tell us what we need to hear—not what we want to hear.

And it’s not just about nonattachment; it’s about taking the road of truth—even when it’s scary.

It’s about knowing that we’re ending things in a way that makes it impossible for the other person to remain or return, but we’re doing so because placing the growth of both people above our relationship status is what matters most.

It’s believing that things will work out as they are meant to, even as tears stream down our faces signifying that we know we’re not meant to stay.

I did love you. I love you still. But that doesn’t mean I should’ve stayed or that you could’ve remained in my life. It doesn’t mean that I have any regrets or that either of us made any mistakes.

The thing is that even if we don’t always want to believe it or see it, there’s a special kind of magic that occurs when we allow ourselves to grow independently of any sort of romantic connection. We get to focus on our own growth; we get to stretch our roots in their own direction. And when things aren’t going well, there’s a unique bonding that occurs with our inner self when there are no one’s arms to run to but our own. When there is no one to curl around as we go to bed but the dreams we have of things getting better.

Aloneness leads to a different sort of strength. Journeying independently brings a greater sense of awareness, and knowing who we are without using another to validate ourselves or model our identity after is priceless because there isn’t anything more valuable in this life than self-awareness.

So no, I couldn’t lie to you. I couldn’t tell you what you wanted to hear, and I wouldn’t take your head against my chest listening to my soft whispers tell you that it would be all right because none of that would’ve actually helped either one of us. I never wanted to lose you; in fact, I feared it just as many of us do, because no one wants to lose the kind of love it takes our whole lives to find.

The kind of love that will forever mark a before and after.

But when we love someone—truly love the soul of another—it means that we would rather see them grow, learn, become strong, and find out who they are than to simply keep showing up for us in a romantic capacity. Rather than have them worry about how to make a relationship work, we’d prefer they focus on the relationship they have with themselves. We’d rather lose someone than make it easy for them to stay stuck in who they were.

I loved you enough to let you go. And we could disagree and say that love never lets go, but love letting go and us physically releasing someone are two very different things. If the love that is present is that deep, soulful love, then it will always be there—that doesn’t mean that it’s always in our best interest to do the same though.

It seems that somewhere along this path, so riddled with the stones of our past and wounds that are still unhealed, we’ve mistaken unconditional love for attachment. But I loved you too deeply to hold on just for our comfort. I loved you too richly to want you to be less than what I knew you could grow into, if only given the time. I loved you too passionately to want to lessen my own worth, and yours in the process, by simply sticking around.

Sometimes, love means leaving. Sometimes it means that I can’t lie to you to make you feel better, and sometimes love really does come down to trusting our gut. To trust in the process, to release our attachment from another and have faith that we will not only experience what we’re meant to but also end up exactly where we’re supposed to.

There are endings—those moments of everything going up in flames—where it’s not about an absence of love, it’s not because it died or wasn’t strong enough, but because we know that sometimes we need to be left alone with ourselves to truly do the work that we’re meant to. This work is always a personal choice, meant to be done alone; and while it’s scary to think of walking this path alone, it’s in these times that we are shown who we are.

I know that this may not make sense to you, and you may never agree with me, but I do know that sometimes people don’t come together at the right time. And no matter how hard we may try to avoid certain lessons or moments, we will inevitably need to face them at some point. And no matter how much someone may love us, if we haven’t learned to do that for ourselves, we will never be able to fully accept it.

I’d rather lose you than lie to you. But more than that, I’d rather have you learn to truly love yourself than never be able to feel fulfilled by mine.

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