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I came across this idea recently that when we love, we become uniquely vulnerable, giving someone the power to hurt us like never before. that thought stayed with me after my breakup. I keep asking myself why I feel stuck, why every part of me resists the idea of moving on. the truth is, I love her regardless of everything, and that love feels more important than protecting myself from the pain.
this vulnerability comes from opening parts of myself I keep hidden from the world. she saw me without filters, without the careful presentation I show everyone else. I shared my hopes, my fears, my vision of what life could become. that kind of exposure creates a bond that ordinary interactions simply miss. when she left, it felt like losing access to a version of myself I could only be with her.
the resistance to moving forward tells me something worth listening to. this relationship touched something real in me. she awakened qualities I want to keep, reflected back parts of myself I felt proud of, helped me become someone I genuinely liked being. letting go feels like abandoning that person I became when we were together. my loyalty persists because what we had mattered, shaped me, changed the way I see connection itself.
recovery feels impossible because I'm grieving two things at once: what we actually shared and what we could have built together. my brain structured itself around her presence, built daily rhythms and patterns of thinking that included her. moving on means rewiring that architecture, and part of me wonders if I even want to. the depth of this feeling proves the relationship meant something profound.
She was there when I was just beginning to understand what love actually meant. I was building myself up, figuring out who I wanted to become, and she became my definition of love itself. Looking back now, I see how much I've grown out of that immature trance, all the terrible mistakes I made, the behavior I deeply regret. The wild part is knowing that if she saw how I'm processing this now, she might label it drama and walk away. Maybe that reaction itself is just a defense mechanism, or maybe it's the pressure to fit into that cool, detached persona everyone seems to perform these days. Either way, thinking about this feels important, even fascinating. I want to keep loving what we had without actually wanting her back, especially considering who she's become. Yet I hold onto this quiet hope that somewhere in her memory, when she thinks of us, she smiles at the good parts rather than tagging everything as immature or cringe.
maybe the question matters less about when I'll move on and more about what I'm learning from choosing to stay present with this love. the loyalty I feel, the commitment that persists even through pain, these capacities matter. they show me I can sustain devotion, hold space for someone even when it aches. right now, honoring what we had feels more authentic than forcing myself to forget. this vulnerability, painful as it is, taught me what it means to truly let someone in.