Reflecting

I’ve thought about this a lot, and I think this is a true statement: at the end of the day, I loved you more than you loved me. You showed me love in more material ways. Left me notes. Texted me you loved me every day. But like you’d often say, actions matter more than words. No matter how tough things got, I was there. I didn’t leave — didn’t even think of leaving. And when I was wrong, I worked on myself. Worked on us. Did everything I could not just to make amends for my mistakes, but to make sure I never repeated them. (Another true statement: I worked on myself much more than you did you.)

So when you wondered if maybe we were two incompatible people, I stand by my disagreement. We weren’t incompatible. The truth is that I loved you more than you loved me, as a person, and while we both wanted the same thing, you weren’t prepared to fully embrace it, yourself.

That’s okay, not being ready. You had a lot you needed to heal over. But what’s not okay, what I don’t think I’ll ever be able to forgive you for, is marrying me instead of telling me you weren’t ready. I gave you everything, and now that I’m left trying to pick up the pieces, I feel tricked and betrayed. I meant every word I said to you — and when I failed you, I changed my actions to match my words. You did the opposite.