I could have loved you.

We were perfect for each other. But at the same time we weren't.

I let you in. I let you into my world. I showed you the sides other people hardly ever get to see. I showed you my flaws and insecurities.

I started to think that maybe, just maybe, someone could love me for me. That I was finally enough. That all I was, wasn't so bad.

And then what happened? You left.

You left me, like I meant nothing to you. Like I never did. The person that you built me up to be, crumbled under the realisation that, you were never meant to stay.

For a while, I beat myself up about it. That you chose her, because I wasn't enough. That you didn't want me. But then, how many months and weeks and hours and minutes later, I realised that I was wrong.

You aren't the reason for the meaning I add to myself and my life. You are not the reason for my happiness. You are not the reason for anything. I am enough, with or without you.

I will always be enough.

I could have loved you. And maybe I did a little bit. But now, sitting here, I'm glad I never completely did.