To the Lovers Who Stayed When the Story Didn't

They never said 'yes'. And I loved them anyway.

"It’s not love if you have a reason to love them. You just do."

Not everyone will understand this.                                                                                     And maybe they’re not supposed to.

But you— yes, you.                                                                                                                          You, sitting there with a story                                                                                          bleeding in your hands like it’s your own heart                                                                      split open,                                                                                                                                      you who (a cheer, hehe) keeps coming back to the pain,                                                                                          to the ache,                                                                                                                                              to the stories that never end the way they should;                                                                            you understand.                                              

Don’t you?

It’s not because you’re drawn to suffering.                                                                                          It’s because you know somewhere                                                                                                   too deep inside to explain that love is never purer,                                                                        never truer,                                                                                                                                       than when it has no reason to exist.                                                                                                                                                     And yet it does.                                                                                                                       Relentlessly. Quietly. Against all odds.

Because isn’t that what love really is?                                                                                         Not something you choose.                                                                                                               Not something you win.                                                                                                                     Not something you can even hold on to.                                                                                           Just… something that happens to you. 

Even when it shouldn’t.                                                                                                                              Even when they’re no longer yours to love.                                                                                            Even when they never were.

That’s what tragic romances teach you, isn’t it?                                                                                 They leave you with the taste of 
“What could’ve been...”                                                                                                                      lingering like smoke you can never quite swallow.                                                                           

They show you how close you came                                                                                                  how just one more word,                                                                                                                         just one more ‘yes’                                                                                                                               could have rewritten everything.                                                                                                        But no one said it.                                                                                                                                    No one ever says it in time.

And yet somehow, heartbreak is still beautiful.
Because in the silence,
in the empty spaces,
in the chances that never came back-they still loved.
Hopelessly. Faithfully. Without asking for anything in return.

That’s why we ache for them.
Because these lovers; the tragic ones 
they didn’t love because they were supposed to.
They loved because they couldn’t not.
Because there was no other way their heart knew how to beat.

“I’ll love you in every other life.”                                                                                                         “I’ll miss you even when you’re here.”                                                                                             “I’ll never not be yours.”                                                                                                                     “Be mine in every life.”  

These aren’t promises of a happy ending.
These are prayers whispered to a god who never answers.
These are vows made knowing the story was already over.

People think tragic romances are bitter.                                                                                  But you and I,                                                                                                                            we know better.                                                                                                                            We know they bring out the best in people.                                                                            Because in tragedy, your love isn’t measured by what you got.                                            It’s measured by what you gave, knowing you’d never get it back.

That is the definition of love:                                                                                                    to love when you have no reason to.                                                                                       To keep loving when every rational part of you begs you to stop.                                       To keep loving because they are your better half — and tragedy just proved it.

So here’s to those who love tragic romances.                                                                        To those who see the beauty in the heartbreak.                                                                    To those who understand that sometimes love doesn’t need to peak,                                 or finish,                                                                                                                                       or make sense to everyone else.                                                                                            Sometimes love just… is.  

And that’s enough.

This is not for everybody.                                                                                                           But it’s for everybody who feels it anyway.                                                                                 Who can’t help but feel it.

It’s for you.

Always for you.

If this broke you too, tell me how. Hit comment. I’ll read every word.