If I Deserve Better, Why Didn’t I Deserve You?

You said something to me that has stayed with me more than anything else:

“You deserve better.”

You didn’t say it cruelly.

You didn’t say it angrily.

You said it softly—like someone trying to shield another person from pain.

And for a long time, I accepted it without question.

But silence has a way of transforming gentle words into heavy thoughts.

Because if I truly deserved better, I kept wondering—

Why was that “better” never you?

Choosing isn’t compromising

I never saw you as a compromise.

I never stayed because I was afraid of being alone.

I didn’t choose you out of habit, convenience, or weakness.

I chose you deliberately.

I chose your peace.

Your stillness.

Your careful distance.

Even the parts of you that didn’t open easily.

When you say I deserve better, it sounds kind—but it also sounds like a quiet way of backing away without saying so.

As if I was worthy of care, but not worthy of choice.

What love meant to me

Love, at least the way I experienced it, was never about comparing people.

It wasn’t about finding a “better” person on paper.

It was about recognition.

I didn’t love your perfect self.

I loved your real self—the one that existed in its own way, even when it couldn’t stay.

Wanting you was never a mistake.

It was never a compromise.

It was a decision I stood by.

When “better” means “somewhere else”

Sometimes, “you deserve better” doesn’t mean someone believes you are valuable.

Sometimes it means they know they can’t give you what you’re hoping for. And if that's the truth, then I respect it.

Not because it didn't hurt—

but because honesty, even unspoken, still matters.

You didn't disappoint me.

You didn't betray me.

You didn't take something and refuse to give it back.

We were simply standing at different depths of the same emotion.

Letting go without resentment.

I don't hold grudges.

I don't blame.

I understand. I now accept that "better" doesn't always mean closer.

Sometimes it simply means different paths.

And I've learned that loving with a true heart—even if that love isn't reciprocated—isn't a weakness.

It's a testament to depth.

If you ever wonder why someone remained gentle,

why they didn't succumb to bitterness,

why they let go quietly—

this is why.

Because what I felt was real.

And real things don't lose their meaning just because they end.