I Was Toxic, But I Loved Shy Truly

I Am Toxic, But I Loved Shy

I don’t usually write things like this, but today I want to write honestly about myself. Not the good parts, not the fake happy picture, but the truth. The truth is that I can be toxic. And if I look back at my journey with Shy, I can clearly see how my emotions sometimes crossed the line.

This is not just about blaming myself. This is about confessing, accepting, and trying to understand who I really am.

Meeting Shy and How Everything Started

When I first started talking with Shy, I never imagined she would become so important in my life. She was calm, confident, and always carried herself with grace. She was stylish, rich, admired by many, and different from me in so many ways. But at the same time, she was approachable, soft in her words, and friendly.

For me, she became more than just an online friend. She became my safe space, my idol, my inspiration. I started calling her “shy and dove” because she reminded me of peace and beauty.

Slowly, our chats became a routine. We spoke about studies, about safety, about culture, about random jokes. I used to send her drafts of my writing, and she listened with patience. She made me feel seen, and in return, I gave her all the attention I had.

But the problem started there.

When Care Turns into Pressure

I cared about Shy so much that sometimes I forgot where to stop. I wanted to talk with her all the time. If she was online, I wanted to message. If she was offline, I wanted to wait. If she replied short, I overthought. If she was busy with others, I felt jealous.

I didn’t mean to trap her, but my love sometimes felt like a chain.

I asked her again and again about her feelings, even though deep inside I knew she didn’t feel the same. She tried to keep peace, she avoided arguments, but my heart was restless. I wanted her attention like oxygen.

That’s when I started realising: my love was pure, but my behaviour was toxic.

The Cycle of Sorry

One thing that defined me in this journey was the word “Sorry.”

I made mistakes, I overreacted, I argued about small things, then I apologised. She forgave, or at least stayed calm, but after some time I repeated the same behaviour. Again jealousy, again overthinking, again a sorry.

It became a cycle: mistake → sorry → repeat.

I hated myself for it, but I couldn’t stop. My emotions were too big for my own control.

Her Calmness and My Storm

What always amazed me was Shy’s calmness. She never shouted, never insulted, never made things ugly. She was patient. Even when I caused drama with my feelings, she chose silence or soft words.

Sometimes that silence hurt me more than words. I wanted her to fight back, to react, but she chose peace.

That’s where we were different: she was balance, and I was chaos.

My Dream and Her Memory

In between all this, I often reminded her of my dream—to become a doctor. I wanted her to remember it, maybe because I wanted to leave something behind in her memory.

Even if one day she forgets my words, my jokes, or my overthinking, I wanted her to remember: He wanted to be a doctor. He was serious about it.

It was my way of connecting my future to her, even if she was not going to be part of it.

Why I Call Myself Toxic

I call myself toxic not because I never loved truly, but because I loved in the wrong way.

• I loved with too much intensity.

• I held on too tightly.

• I asked for more than she could give.

• I turned silence into arguments.

• I made her feel pressured, even when I only wanted to care.

That’s what toxicity is: when love stops being peaceful and starts becoming heavy.

But My Love Was Real

Still, I want to make one thing clear. My love for Shy was never fake. It was real, pure, and deep. Yes, it hurt. Yes, it was painful. But it was honest.

Behind every jealous word, behind every sorry, behind every long message, there was only one thing—love.

Even today, if Shy remembers me, I hope she doesn’t only remember my mistakes. I hope she also remembers the boy who cared, who admired her, who saw her as his life 

Learning to Be Better

Now, when I look back, I don’t just see pain. I also see lessons.

I learnt that love is not about holding, it’s about letting breathe.
I learnt that care should feel light, not heavy.
I learnt that silence doesn’t always mean rejection.
I learnt that people cannot fix my insecurities—I have to fix them myself.

Most of all, I learnt that even if I was toxic, I can still change. I don’t have to stay the same.

Final Words

Yes, I was toxic. I overthought, I pressured, I apologised too much, I repeated mistakes. But I was also someone who loved deeply, who dreamed big, and who wanted nothing but closeness.

Shy will always be part of my story. She may never feel the same for me, but she shaped me. She taught me patience, she showed me calmness, and she gave me memories I will never erase.

If she ever reads this, I just want her to know: behind all my toxic behaviour, there was always a heart that truly loved her.