At This Golden age, It’s Better to Wait. Right?

I might sound naive if I say, “Admiring you is enough for me,” because it’s not. I want you to be mine, deeply and desperately. I want to hear your thoughts when the world goes quiet. I want to be the one you turn to after a long, messy day. But I know that wanting you like that might make me selfish, because… I see how your spirit longs to roam, to grow, to belong to no one but yourself. And so, for now, I’ve convinced myself that being your friend is the best place to be. It’s the safest version of love I can offer — one that stays close without crossing the line.

It hurts to admit, but maybe letting you go — just for now — is what I need to do. I want to see you as a friend. I want to cherish this version of us. It’s not easy, though. To look at you and hold back. To cheer you on without wondering if your wins would feel sweeter with me beside you. I know it’s almost unbearable to admit this to myself, but I’m learning to love you silently — without needing you to carry the weight of that love. And maybe this is what growing up looks like: loving without needing to own, and choosing peace over possession.

I’ve watched you chase your curiosities, meet new people, dive into new places, and bloom with every experience. And at first, I thought I wasn’t enough for you, I was too much and dumb for loving you. But then I realized — maybe I’m meant to do the same. Maybe I’m not dumb and too much for loving you, maybe I’m being invited to grow alongside you, even from a distance. Because in the end, I want that too. I want to expand, to understand myself better, to meet people who challenge me, to become the version of me I’m still discovering. So perhaps, at this golden age, it’s not about rushing into love but about becoming whole on our own first. So perhaps, at this golden age… maybe it’s better to wait, right?

There’s a chance I’ll meet people who make me feel things I didn’t expect. Maybe I’ll smile again at someone new. Maybe you’ll fall for someone else, someone who lights up your life in a way I never could. Or maybe we’ll both walk through heartbreaks that teach us more than love ever could. I don’t know. The future holds so many unknowns, and that both excites and terrifies me. But here’s what I choose to believe: if we are meant to be, we’ll come back to each other’s arms no matter how far we go. In a better version. In some corner of the world, (maybe) I’ll meet you again. And if that moment comes, I hope I won’t have to let you go for a second time.

But until that day comes — or even if it never does — I’ll keep carrying this quiet love with gratitude. I’ll let it shape me, not destroy me. I’ll let it remind me of the beauty of feeling something this real, even if it never had the chance to become something more. So, for now, I’ll close this chapter — the memory of you. I’m praying for your happiness, always.

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This post was previously published on medium.com.

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