【sorry（that及i及loved及you）】Sometimes, the hardest thing to say isn’t “I love you.” It’s “I’m sorry that I loved you.”

Not because the love was wrong, but because it came at the wrong time. Because the person I loved wasn’t ready. Or maybe I wasn’t. Maybe we were both chasing something that wasn’t meant to be.

There’s a certain kind of pain that comes from loving someone and knowing they’ll never truly belong to you. It’s not heartbreak in the traditional sense—it’s more like a quiet ache, a whisper of what could have been, buried deep in your chest.

I remember the way my heart would race every time I saw you. The way I’d smile without thinking, the way I’d forget to breathe when you spoke. I loved you with everything I had, and yet, I always felt like an outsider in my own feelings.

Maybe that’s the cruel part of love. It doesn’t ask if you’re ready. It just shows up, loud and clear, and leaves you wondering why it chose you.

I don’t regret loving you. I regret that I couldn’t make it work. I regret that I couldn’t change the way things were. I regret that I had to watch you walk away, knowing that I’d given you all I had, and still, it wasn’t enough.

But I also know that some loves are meant to teach us, not to last. They come into our lives to show us who we are, what we want, and what we’re willing to fight for. Even if it ends, even if it hurts, it’s still a part of us.

So I say it again: Sorry that I loved you.

Not because I didn’t mean it.

But because I did. And that’s the hardest part of all.