Everything I did for you,
I did without a ledger
no scorecard, no list of sacrifices,
just the silent satisfaction of loving you
in ways words could never measure.
When I asked if you would do the same for me,
you said yes ,
so easily, so quickly,
as if the word itself weighed nothing.
But words, I've learned,
can sound like promises
and still mean nothing at all.
I never counted the things I did for you,
but the few I remembered,
I turned into tests , quiet, unspoken ones.
Each one disguised as an emergency,
a moment where love was supposed to act,
not just speak.
And every time,
you failed them.
You failed not because you didn't know what to do,
but because you saw a second choice ,
a way out.
And you took it.
You always took it.
You ran from the weight of effort,
ran from the chance to prove your heart,
ran as if loving me
was a burden too heavy to bear.
You never realized
the tests were never about perfection ,
they were about presence.
I didn't need grand gestures,
I needed you to stay.
But you mistook endurance for obligation,
and presence for pressure.
So now the roles have reversed.
Now there are two choices ,
one where I choose you,
and one where I choose myself.
And this time,
I'm taking the second choice.
Not out of revenge,
not out of pride,
but out of the quiet realization
that I've been choosing you
for far too long
at the cost of myself.
You had your chances.
You had your tests.
You had my heart,
and every time,
you chose to run.
So now it's my turn ,
to walk away,
to breathe,
to heal,
and to finally choose me.
Because love shouldn't feel like a test
I'm destined to fail alone.
Cause I've learned, painfully,
that the truest form of love
is sometimes the one
we give back to ourselves.