Surviving Heartbreak

I stayed

I was once asked, why did you stay?
And I had no words,
no answers that felt honest enough.
The answer wasn't as simple as I thought—
it never was, and it never will be.
I stayed because I had hope,
a stubborn, aching hope,
that if I loved him enough,
he'd turn back into the man
I couldn't let go of.

But as I stayed,
anger bloomed in my chest,
resentment carved its home in my ribs.
It wasn't his anger, his coldness
that consumed me—
it was my own.
Because I saw him pulling away,
step by quiet step,
while I force-fed him a love
I should have been saving for myself.

I stayed for the life we built,
for the family I adopted as my own,
for the fur babies who rested
at my feet like anchors.
I stayed because I didn't know
how to leave behind
the dreams we once dared to share.
I stayed because I was scared—
scared to let go,
scared of what I'd become
without him.

I stayed because loving him
felt easier than loving myself.
I poured into him,
emptying every ounce of my soul,
believing my love could heal
what was breaking between us.
But all I did was crack myself open,
and he couldn't see the pieces.

I stayed because I believed
love was meant to be fought for.
But no one told me
that fighting for love
shouldn't feel like losing yourself.
No one warned me
that begging someone to stay
isn't love—it's surrender.

I stayed—
and I would have stayed forever.
No vows were needed, no rings were given
just the promise I made to myself
to never let us go.
But had he not walked away,
I would have lost myself completely.
I would have faded into someone
even I couldn't recognize.

And now, I am here.
Proud of the woman
who learned to pour love inward,
who gathered the shattered pieces
and held them gently.
His coldness taught me warmth,
his leaving taught me to stay—
for myself.

I stayed.
And I healed.
And though I stayed too long,
I found the love
I was searching for all along.

—MistakenGenius