When I was a kid, I thought love would be the easiest thing to have when I grew older. I saw it in my parents—the way my Mom and Dad chose each other every day, the way happiness looked simple in their hands. I grew up believing love was like the stories I watched, like how Rapunzel fell for Eugene, like how Cinderella loved Prince Charming. I thought love would find me too, just as gently.
That belief stayed with me longer than it should have. It's probably why I didn't question things when I started liking someone. I thought love was supposed to be quiet at first, patient, something that slowly grows. So when they never took my hand, I told myself it was normal. When they never called me theirs, I said maybe love doesn't need labels right away.
Until I met him.
Even though I never felt my feelings for him would be fully returned, I stayed because I believed love could be simple. Because that's what I was taught. I believed that if I waited long enough, if I loved hard enough, it would become something real. I thought love always chooses back—the way it did for my parents, the way it did in fairy tales. I didn't realize that some people can stay close to you without ever choosing you.
He kept me near, close enough to hope, but never close enough to belong. And I accepted it, because I thought love meant understanding. I learned how to love quietly, how to laugh while my chest hurts, and how to call almost-love "enough." I thought patience was proof of how deeply I cared.
My friends tried to warn me. They said they saw signs that someday this person would get down on one knee—for someone. I held onto the idea that I could still be that someone. I told myself love was just taking its time. I gaslighted my own heart because believing in love felt safer than admitting I was already losing it.
Until one day, reality caught up with me.
I saw him with someone else. The way they smiled—easy, sure, unafraid. The way he held someone's hand like it had always belonged there. I watched him reach into his pocket, steady and confident, and before I could even brace myself, that someone said yes to the future I had been quietly waiting for.
In that moment, everything I believed about love shattered. He wasn't scared. He wasn't confused. Love hadn't failed—it just never included me. I wasn't the one he was afraid to lose. I was the one he knew would understand, even while breaking.
And that's when I realized the hardest truth: love isn't always kind, and it isn't always meant for everyone. Some of us grew up believing in fairy tales, only to learn that in real life, not every story has a happy ending—and not every love chooses you back.
So if you're reading this and you still believe love will be easy, I hope it is. I hope it finds you gently. But if it doesn't—if you find yourself loving someone who never holds your hand, never chooses you—don't stay just because you were taught love is simple.
Because sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is let go of the love you believed in.
And that's what I'm going to do now, to unlove you 3000.
Written by John Benedict Banday, Insight PH
John Benedict Banday, Insight PH is a dedicated campus journalist and contributor. Their insightful writing sparks meaningful conversations and keeps the community informed.
