All Too Well
Sometimes, no matter how deeply we care, no matter how earnestly we try, we won’t be enough for someone—and it will have nothing to do with us. You can give your heart completely, offer love that isn’t casual but consuming, and still receive nothing but mixed signals in return. One moment, they hold you close, whispering words that feel like promises, making you believe that you matter. The next, they pull away, leave you in silence, acting as if you were never anything more than an afterthought. You start to feel like you’re chasing shadows, trying to capture something that’s constantly slipping away.
It’s a heavy weight to bear, the feeling that you were somehow never worth the risk, that despite all you’ve given, they couldn’t choose you. And yet, they never let you go either. The guilt trips creep in, as they tell you they “aren’t ready” or that they “just need time.” They leave breadcrumbs of affection, just enough to keep you tethered, to make you feel like maybe—just maybe—they’ll choose you eventually. You question yourself endlessly: Did I do something wrong? Am I asking for too much?
But here’s the truth: their mixed signals are not a reflection of your worth. It never was. Some people can only offer fragments of themselves, and their inability to fully embrace your love is not your failure. They keep you in limbo not because you are lacking, but because they aren’t ready to face their own uncertainty. They don’t want to lose the comfort of your love, yet they can’t fully commit to it. It’s a cruel dance, but it’s one that you don’t deserve to be a part of.
If you're full of love, why don’t you give yourself some? We spend so much time trying to prove we are worthy of others, but rarely do we ask ourselves: Am I giving that love back to me? We pour ourselves out, offering pieces of our heart, waiting for someone else to make us feel whole. But self-love is the only kind that will never waver, never retreat. When we turn that love inward, we discover a healing that only we can give. It doesn’t mean the pain of rejection disappears—it means we learn to soften it, to cradle it with compassion rather than blame.
People have the right to decline your love, no matter how pure your intentions are. And it’s heartbreaking, isn’t it? To be told you are not what they want, when you’ve convinced yourself that you could be everything for them. You try to read between the lines of their words, hold on to the moments where it felt like you might have been enough, and it’s exhausting. But it’s okay. You are not here to convince anyone of your worth, and their indecision is not a reflection of your value. It is their journey, their uncertainty, not your deficiency.
And yes, it hurts. It will always hurt when the love you give isn’t returned in the way you hoped. But remember this: just because someone doesn’t see the depth of what you offer doesn’t mean it’s shallow. Just because they didn’t take the risk doesn’t mean you aren’t worth it.
You are enough. You always were.
So, be kind to yourself. Let go of the need to prove your love to those who cannot receive it. The right person will never make you question if you are worth the risk. They will dive in, heart first, knowing that your love is something they want to hold onto, not run away from. And until then, love yourself fiercely, because no one can do it quite like you can. You are your own greatest love story.
But ask yourself this: how much longer will you keep trying to convince someone who doesn’t want to see you? How long will you ignore the voice inside that says you’re deserving of so much more? Are you ready to be enough for yourself?
Maybe they’re right. Maybe you were too much. Or maybe, deep down, you were never enough at all.
