When I said I felt nothing, it wasn’t because love was gone.
It was because I was gone. And I didn’t know how to come back

Junle,

You told me the moment you fell out of love with me was at your graduation.
When I refused to hug you.
When I looked you in the eyes and said, “I feel nothing. I don’t think I love you.”

I’ve replayed that moment more times than I can count.
And the truth is, I don’t blame you.
Those words were cruel, and I know how much they must’ve hurt.

But I want you to know something that I couldn’t explain back then: those words weren’t the whole truth.
They weren’t coming from a place of clarity or certainty,
but from a place of collapse.

What I said that day was not a reflection of how little I loved you, it was the wreckage of how much I was hurting.

At the time, I was emotionally shut down in a way I’d never experienced before.
Not because of you, but because of everything I had been refusing to face.
I had so much pain, anger, and confusion bottled up, most of it from myself, and my inability to process anything without hurting others in the process.

Since our breakup, I had been falling apart quietly.
Every day without you felt like trying to breathe through a fog that wouldn’t lift.
But instead of letting myself heal, I kept dragging myself through a storm, one I didn’t want you caught in.

When I saw you, I wasn’t feeling nothing.
I was feeling everything, so much that I’d gone numb.
And I told you that not because I didn’t love you,
but because I didn’t know how to feel safe in my own body.
Because you were the one person I felt safe enough to be honest with, but I didn’t know how to be honest in a way that didn’t cause harm.

Thinking back, what I needed that day wasn’t space.
It was connection.
It was someone to remind me that I wasn’t beyond love or saving. But it was never your responsibility to carry me through that.

You had already carried so much.
And you were always gentle with me, even when I didn’t deserve it. I see now how unfair it was to let you stand in the crossfire of my healing.

You didn’t do anything wrong.
You didn’t deserve to be spoken to like that.
You didn’t deserve the silence, the confusion, or the weight of my breakdown.

You weren’t the one who left, but I had to pull away.
Because I couldn’t work on myself while still being tethered to you.
Every conversation, every glance, every bit of you reminded me of everything I lost, and everything I didn’t know how to fix.

I had so much pent-up pain.
Anger I never let out properly.
Grief I refused to name.
And none of that was your fault,
but I kept putting it on your shoulders anyway.

By the time your graduation came,
I was numb.

Numb from feeling too much for too long.
Numb from trying to protect you from the worst parts of me.
Numb from running so hard from the pain
that even your presence, the safest person I’ve ever known, couldn’t reach me in that moment.

When I said,
“I feel nothing,”
what I meant was:
“I’ve lost myself.”
“I can’t feel anything right now, and I don’t know how to fix it.”
“Please don’t give up on me. Please hold me. Please tell me I’m going to be okay.”

But that’s not what came out.
I said it all wrong.
And instead of pulling you closer,
I pushed you away in the worst way possible.

I was trying to protect you by pushing you away,
thinking I was doing the right thing.
But all I did was wound the one person who never gave up on me.
And I’m sorry for that. Deeply.

You didn’t deserve that.
You deserved someone who could show up with clarity,
with kindness,
with the kind of love you so freely gave me.

But I was drowning.
And sometimes when you’re drowning,
you thrash against the one trying to save you
because you’ve forgotten what it means to breathe.

You were right to be hurt.
You were right to protect your heart.
But I hope one day you’ll also understand
that I never stopped loving you.
Not even for a second.

I was trying to protect you from the chaos inside me.
Trying to let you go because I thought it was the only way
to keep from dragging you down with me.

But if I could go back,
I wouldn’t walk away.
I would fall into your arms.
I would cry.
I would tell you what I was really feeling.
I would ask for help instead of pretending I didn’t need it.

That day broke something in both of us.
But it also showed me how much more I needed to grow,
to learn how to love without hurting,
to be someone who could show up for you the way you always did for me.

I understand why you fell out of love with me.
And I accept that.

But I hope you also know, I never stopped loving you.
Not then. Not now.
And I will always hold space for the ways I failed you,
not as punishment,
but as a reminder of how deeply you deserved better.

Thank you for loving me through it anyway.
Thank you for showing up even when it hurt.
And thank you for walking away when it was no longer safe to stay.

You were never the problem.
You were the light I couldn’t hold onto
because I hadn’t yet learned how to stop burning everything down.

I hope, more than anything,
that you never doubt your worth
because of what I said that day.

You are worthy of love that feels calm, consistent, and kind.
You always have been.

I’m sorry for the pain I caused.
And I’m sorry you had to carry it in silence.
You didn’t deserve that.
You deserved to be loved boldly, kindly,
even when I felt lost.

—Xinlin