I was just trying to be whatever you wanted.

That was how it started, and somehow, it was still where I found myself. Caught in a loop, a constant battle between who I was and who I was supposed to be—at least in your eyes. And for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out why that mattered so much. But it did. More than I wanted to admit.

When we first met, you seemed so certain of everything. You had a way of seeing the world that was both admirable and terrifying, like you had everything figured out. It was magnetic, the way you carried yourself, so sure of every decision, so unwavering in your beliefs. I envied that about you. It made me feel small, but also, it made me want to be better, to reach for something greater.

So I tried.

I tried to shape myself into what I thought you wanted. It started with the little things—changing the way I dressed, the way I talked. I’d catch myself mid-sentence, trying to tailor my words to fit your expectations, to be more aligned with the person I thought you’d respect. I laughed at the jokes I didn’t find funny, agreed with opinions that didn’t sit right with me.

But it wasn’t just about pretending. It was about trying to actually become that person. I buried parts of myself, locked them away in some dark corner, hoping you wouldn’t notice if they ever tried to surface. I wasn’t even sure if you would have cared, but the fear that you might was enough to keep me in line.

And for a while, it worked. We were happy, or at least you were. I became good at this role I had created, wearing it like a second skin. But it wasn’t me. Not really. I could feel the weight of it, the cracks forming beneath the surface. The more I tried to be what you wanted, the less I recognized myself.

I started to lose things, little bits of who I used to be. Friends drifted away, people who didn’t fit into the mold of this new life. Hobbies that once brought me joy fell to the wayside, replaced by the things you liked, the things that made sense in your world. I convinced myself it was a small price to pay for keeping you close.

But the more I gave up, the more I started to resent you. Not outwardly, of course. I couldn’t afford that. But inside, where all the things I’d buried began to fester. I wanted to hate you, to blame you for everything I’d lost. But the truth was, I did it to myself. You never asked me to change. Not once. It was all in my head, this fear of not being enough, of not living up to your standards.

Eventually, it started to show. The facade cracked, and I couldn’t keep up with the person I was pretending to be. I became distant, withdrawn, afraid that you’d see the real me and realize how different I was from the person you thought you knew. I was scared that you’d leave, but even more scared that you wouldn’t, that you’d stay and I’d be trapped in this lie forever.

One night, it all came crashing down. We were sitting in our living room, the silence between us heavier than it had ever been. I couldn’t take it anymore. The words spilled out of me before I could stop them, a flood of confessions and apologies, of truths I had kept hidden for too long. I told you everything—how I’d been pretending, how I wasn’t who you thought I was, how much I hated myself for it.

For a long time, you didn’t say anything. You just sat there, staring at me with a look I couldn’t read. I thought it was over, that this was the moment you’d finally walk away. But then you did something I didn’t expect. You reached out, took my hand in yours, and said the one thing I never saw coming.

“I never wanted you to be anything but yourself.”

It was such a simple statement, but it shattered everything I’d built up in my mind. All the fear, all the self-doubt, it suddenly seemed so small, so insignificant. You weren’t the one with the expectations. I was. I had put them on myself, twisted myself into knots trying to live up to a standard that didn’t even exist.

In that moment, I realized how much of my life I’d wasted trying to be someone I wasn’t. And for what? To gain your approval? To feel worthy of your love? It wasn’t worth it. None of it was.

I wish I could say that everything changed after that night, that I suddenly found myself and we lived happily ever after. But it wasn’t that simple. It took time—time to unlearn all the things I’d forced upon myself, time to figure out who I really was beneath all the layers of pretense.

But I’m trying. Every day, I’m trying to be a little more honest with myself, a little more accepting of who I am. And you’ve been there through it all, patient and understanding in a way I didn’t know was possible.

I was just trying to be whatever you wanted. But now, I’m just trying to be me. And for the first time, that feels like enough.