One Year, Two Months, Forever

I never expected to meet someone when I felt my worst — covered in measles, uncomfortable, and hiding in a car outside church. That morning, my body itched with heat and irritation, and my heart wasn’t exactly doing much better. My mum had taken one look at me as we stepped out of the car and told me gently, “Just stay in the car and rest. I’ll come check on you.” So I sat there. Sweating. Miserable. Wondering why my skin had betrayed me overnight. Church hymns floated faintly through the glass windows, but I felt miles away from God, from everyone. Then, he appeared. Smirking at me like he could see through the glass, like I wasn’t a spotted, irritated mess but a joke waiting to be made. He teased me. Playfully, annoyingly — like he’d known me for years. I don’t even remember exactly what he said, but I remember how it made me feel. I laughed. Not because it was funny, but because I hadn’t laughed in a while. And just like that, the boy outside my car became the boy inside my life. At first, everything felt exciting. Texts that made me blush. Conversations that went on too late. Attention I didn’t even know I needed. It didn’t take long before I fell — not gradually, but completely. I gave him all of me. My time, my heart, my loyalty. I loved him with a kind of innocence I wish I’d saved for someone who could actually hold it carefully. But the truth? It was toxic. Complicated. Painful. I made excuses for his moods. I apologized for things I didn’t do. I bent myself to fit his sharp edges — just to keep him happy, just to be enough. I would have done anything for him… and I almost did. All because I had a heart that loved too deeply. A soul that didn’t know when to stop giving. I started to lose parts of myself — slowly, quietly. Until I barely recognized the girl in the mirror. She looked tired. Small. Like someone begging to be seen, to be loved, to be chosen. Then, something unexpected happened. I met someone else. It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t dramatic. It was just… natural. A different kind of feeling. Gentle. Real. It wasn’t a rush of fire — it was a calm I didn’t know I needed. With him, I laughed again — not just at jokes, but because I was genuinely happy. For the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel like I was suffering just to keep someone. I didn’t feel like pain had to come with love. And in that moment, I knew: I had been loving someone who didn’t deserve me. And finally, I was ready to stop.