The Lesson Of Us

Not all soulmates heal—some scar you so you finally learn.

He wasn’t meant to be my forever. I see that now. He was the kind of person you collide with, not the kind you build with. At first it felt like fate—instant, magnetic, bigger than both of us. But underneath it, there was a heaviness I kept trying to ignore.

With him, everything was intense. The highs made me dizzy, the lows cut me open. I thought that kind of passion had to mean love, but really it was chaos. We kept repeating the same arguments, the same cycles—makeup, fallout, repeat. I kept telling myself it was worth it because the connection felt unshakable. But what I didn’t want to admit was that it was also toxic.

He knew how to get under my skin, how to pull the best and worst out of me. And I let him. I stayed longer than I should have because I was hooked on the way he made me feel alive, even when it was destroying me. I confused his intensity with depth. I thought the fire meant we were meant to be, when really it was just fire—burning me down.

Looking back, I realize he wasn’t a mistake. He was a lesson. He forced me to face the parts of myself I kept ignoring—why I accepted less, why I confused pain for love, why I thought being chosen sometimes was better than not being chosen at all.

It hurt like hell, but he showed me what I can’t allow anymore. He made me stronger in a backwards way. Because of him, I’ll never again mistake chaos for connection. I’ll never again fight for someone who won’t fight for me.

He wasn’t my forever. He was my wake-up call.