And sometimes they end. And it’s an ending you’ve chosen.
It feels weird and sad. But the sadness maybe isn’t so much about what you’re actually ending as it is about what you thought you had.
And maybe you want to make it better and try to do or say something different that you haven’t already tried. Or said. Something that will make the ending feel a little softer. A little less permanent.
Because in your heart there is still truly tenderness for the person. They were a baby bird once, too.
But you are a human, not a magician. And all the love in the world may not translate as the kind of love that feels like real love to them. It will not change the pains that happened before their feathers grew in.
And maybe no amount or kind of love will ever heal those pains until they can offer it first to themselves. Outside love won’t change that, growing up, they had the kind of family where the dad splits and the mom lays her eggs in another bird’s nest for that bird to hatch and handle. So that the babies aren’t either of their problems anymore.
Here’s what’s true: You aren’t weak. You aren’t quitting.
Your heart beats under your feathers, too. Your heart chooses love that feels like love to you. And the love that feels like love to you must, must come from underneath your own feathers first.