Because I love you, I choose myself

I don’t want a love that fades with pain,

that pulls away, then comes again.

Not someone who shuts every door

when they can’t face themselves anymore.

I don’t want to feel like I’m too much,

like I’m a weight you can’t quite touch.

Not something you need to escape,

or a feeling you try to reshape.

I don’t want a future where I shrink,

where I lose my voice before I think.

Where I have to bend, erase, pretend,

just to keep you till the end.

I don’t want half love, cold and small,

where I have to beg for it at all.

No distant arms, no missing care,

no love that’s only sometimes there.

I don’t want to stand alone

in crowded rooms you’ve always known.

To feel like being me is wrong,

like I don’t quite belong.

I won’t hold what you won’t face,

or clean the mess you won’t embrace.

I won’t take the blame you give

for the way you choose to live.

I don’t want a love that feeds on tears,

that grows from pain and hidden fears.

No words that cut to make you feel

like you’re stronger, like you’re real.

I’m tired of trying to fit a space

where I slowly lose my place.

Tired of speaking, being unheard,

tired of every twisted word.

So now I stop, I let it be—

not for you, but finally me.

Not out of hate, not out of pride,

but something in me has shifted inside.

I’ve learned love shouldn’t feel like loss,

like every step comes at a cost.

It shouldn’t hurt just to remain,

or feel like choosing you means pain.

So I won’t wait for what won’t stay,

or chase what always slips away.

Letting you go, I finally see,

is just another way to choose me.

And I won’t forget who I was before—

someone whole, not asking for more.

Wanting love should feel like light,

not something that keeps me up at night.

What you give, so small, so low,

will never match what I can grow.

Because I know, and now I see—

you’re not enough for all of me.