Waiting for Someone Who Might Never Come Back – But I Still Can't Let Go

 

# How Can You Wait for Someone Who Might Never Come Back?

I ask myself this question every single day. I know the answer should be simple—I should move on, let go, stop waiting. But if it were that easy, I wouldn’t be here, writing this.  

Waiting isn’t something I chose. It’s something my heart decided on its own. No matter how much I try to reason with myself, no matter how many times I tell myself, *She’s not coming back. She’s already gone,* my heart refuses to listen. It still hopes. It still holds on.  

And that’s the hardest part. Knowing that I might be waiting for nothing. That she might never return. That she might have already moved on while I’m still stuck in the past, replaying old conversations, rereading messages, wondering where things went wrong.  

People say, *Why wait for someone who doesn’t even care?* But they don’t get it. It’s not about logic. It’s about the moments we shared, the way she made me feel, the way I *still* feel even after she’s drifted away. It’s about the fact that, deep down, I can’t bring myself to accept that this is how it ends.  

Maybe I’m being foolish. Maybe I’m just making it harder for myself. But how do you stop waiting when you never wanted to let go in the first place? How do you force your heart to unlove someone who still means the world to you?  

I don’t know how long I’ll wait. I don’t know if she’ll ever come back. But until the day my heart gives up on its own, I’ll still be here. Hoping. Waiting. Even if it means waiting for someone who might never return.  

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#Heartbreak #WaitingForYou #LostLove #LonelyThoughts #UnfinishedStory #LoveAndPain #EmotionalWriting #HoldingOn #MovingOn #BrokenHeart

I Thought I Was Your Home, But I Was Just a Shelter – And Yet, I’m Still Waiting

 

# **I Thought I Was Your Home, But I Was Just a Shelter – And Yet, I’m Still Waiting**  

I don’t know why I ever thought I was different. That maybe, just maybe, I could be the one someone stayed with. That you would stay. But now, I see it for what it is. I was never a home. I was just a shelter.  

People come when they’re lost. When they need comfort. When the world is too cruel to face alone. And I—I give them warmth, I listen, I stay up all night making sure they’re okay. And once they’ve healed? Once they’ve found their way again?  

They start slipping away. Slowly. Silently. Until one day, I wake up and realize… they were never mine to begin with.  

And now, here we are. You’re still here, technically. But not really. It’s been 20 days since we actually *talked*—not just me trying, not just me waiting for a reply that never comes, not just you giving half-hearted responses. You’re avoiding me. Hiding something. And I don’t know why.  

Or maybe… I do.  

The day you confessed, something changed. Not just for us, but in me. I don’t know why, but after that, I started acting like I had some right over you. *Ye mat karo, wo mat karo. Yahan mat jao, wahan mat jao.* Do this, don’t do that. I don’t know when caring turned into controlling, when love turned into rules.  

And maybe that’s why we’re here today. Maybe I made you feel trapped instead of safe. Maybe, without realizing it, I pushed you away.  

I don’t know. I just… felt it. And if that’s true, if I ruined this with my own foolishness, then I don’t know how to fix it.  

I just know I’ll still be waiting.  

For the day you stop running. For the day you let me in again. For the day you realize my feelings weren’t a lie.  

I chased you when I had no chance. I kept trying. I never stopped. And now that I have even the smallest chance… I won’t let you go. I won’t let you down.  

Maybe it’s foolish. Maybe I should stop. But I won’t. Because I meant it when I said my search stopped at you. And deep down, I still hope… someday, you’ll come back.  

To anyone reading this—don’t make the same mistakes I did. Love isn’t about control. It’s not about setting rules. If you truly care about someone, give them freedom, not restrictions. Because once distance replaces closeness, once silence replaces conversations… you might realize it too late.

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Thought I Was a Home, But I’m Just a Shelter for Everyone

 

# **Thought I Was a Home, But I’m Just a Shelter for Everyone**  

I don’t know why I even thought I could be something more. I really believed I was a home—yours. That no matter what, you’d stay. But I was wrong. I was never a home. I was just a shelter.  

People come to me when they’re hurt, when they’re lost, when they have nowhere else to go. They find warmth, comfort, and understanding. And then, when they’re okay again, they leave. Every single time. And now, so have you.  

I told myself you were different. That even if the world changed, even if things got hard, you’d still be here. But you’re not. And I don’t even blame you. Maybe I was always meant to be temporary. Maybe I was only ever a place for you to rest until you could move forward without me.  

I hate this feeling—this emptiness you left behind. I keep telling myself to be strong, to accept it, to let go. But how do I let go of something that still lives in me? How do I move on when every part of me is still waiting for you to come back?