I was the one who left

Yes, I was the one who left.

But I was also the one who begged, over and over, for a shred of your kindness. I was the one who bent, who lowered my standards, who made myself smaller, just so I wouldn’t overwhelm you. I was the one who tried to understand your rage, your fury, even when it tore me apart. I was the one who saw your brokenness, felt it deep within me, even when it shattered me piece by piece. I was the one who endlessly tried to teach you how to love, how to love me the right way, as though I were the one who needed to change. I was the one who handed you countless chances, believing with all my heart that you could make things right. I was the one who waited, endlessly, for you to change—hoping against hope that one day, you would. I was the one who was unknowingly draining, crumbling beneath the weight of a love so deep, so consuming, that I thought your love could eventually heal the pieces of me you had broken.

No, I never imagined that I would be the one capable of leaving.