If you love her, let her go.
The saying;
If you love her, let her go. If she is truly meant for you, she will find her way back.
It’s a saying we’ve all heard before. But do I agree with it? That’s the real question, and my answer will tell you everything about this story.
I loved someone once. I could tell you about all the reasons why. How her smile could brighten the gloomiest of days or how her laughter echoed in my mind long after she was gone. I could take you through the countless moments we shared, but instead, let me take you to the end of this journey.
I met her on a random day while heading to my destination. My eyes wandered her way, and in that instant, something inside me shifted. Goosebumps covered my skin, as if my body couldn’t quite believe what it was seeing. How could someone like her exist among the rest of us? Even now, I remember the shock, the scent of her perfume leaving a permanent stain in my nostrils.
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She was beautiful, yes, but that wasn’t what captivated me. We became friends, and I wanted more than just the surface-level acquaintance. I wanted to know what she loved, what she dreamed about. I wanted to see if she could love someone for who they were, flaws and all. I should tell you, “I am a closed book. Only select people do I allow into my heart.” Lies. She just chose to make it difficult. To be honest, I stayed because I loved the mystery.
I’ve never been good at matters of the heart. I was impulsive, always rushing forward without thinking. I placed too much faith in people, and that often clouded my judgment. It’s something I now regret, but I’ve made peace with it.
Eventually, the day came when I decided to tell her how I felt. Not with words spoken, but with poetry, a letter. Writing was my only way of truly expressing what I couldn’t say out loud. So I sat down and poured everything into it, convinced that she would understand. After all, what could go wrong?
I was nervous, but my friends encouraged me. I prepared a place for us to meet, watching the clock, each second dragging by like an eternity. My heart raced, my mind spun with doubts. But I stayed. I had to.
When she walked in, time seemed to slow down. My hands shook as I pulled out the chair for her. The letter and poem felt heavy in my hands, and for a moment, I couldn’t speak. Instead, I handed it to her, my heart pounding louder than the words I wanted to say. “You’re my muse,” I whispered, more to myself than to her. She read the poem. I could see into her eyes, she was puzzled. She didn’t want to say the wrong thing. I read her body language like a book, and everything screamed, “ I do not feel the same way.” We left the place in peace, only to hide the fact that I was in pieces. Each step I took felt like a swords beneath my feet stabbing me for being honest about my love for her. I expected rejection. I did not anticipate the hurt.
That moment, though filled with anguish and hope, taught me lessons I didn’t expect to learn. I realized then that love at first sight, the way I had felt it, isn’t always mutual. And maybe it was foolish of me to believe it could be. I learned that sometimes, you need to protect your heart, because no one else will bear the weight of its wounds. But most importantly, I learned to let go.
Letting go wasn’t easy. It took time. Days of denial, nights of sorrow. But slowly, piece by piece, I found peace in the act of moving on. If it’s meant to be, I thought, it will find its way back to me. But if it doesn’t, then maybe it was never mine to begin with.
