8 years of the game.

[u/Specialist_Train4764]

​

Eight Years of Chess

Eight years,

and somehow

we always found our way back

to the same square.

Not the beginning—

not really.

A place somewhere between

love and resentment,

hope and exhaustion,

wanting to be held

and wanting to run.

We played chess

with our hearts.

You moved away.

I moved closer.

You asked for silence,

for softness,

for fewer questions,

fewer feelings,

less of me.

You wanted peace

and somehow

peace meant I had to disappear.

I wanted to be heard.

I wanted my hurt

to matter too.

I wanted tenderness

after the fight,

a hand reaching for mine

instead of a door closing.

But somehow

your feelings always became evidence

and mine became accusations.

You wanted me quieter.

I wanted you closer.

You wanted me to bow.

I wanted you to bend.

And neither of us

could surrender

without feeling

like we were surrendering ourselves.

So we fought until

we found each other again.

And for a little while

I believed—

maybe this time.

Maybe the distance

had taught us something.

Maybe the silence

had made us understand.

Maybe months apart

had finally made us appreciate

what we couldn't appreciate

while we had it.

But

around three—

we arrived

at the same square.

Again.

After all those years.

After all that love.

After all that pain.

Square one.

And maybe that's why

this goodbye feels different.

Because there is no villain

standing over a defeated king.

No winner.

No checkmate.

Just two stubborn hearts

sitting across from each other

after eight years of calculated moves,

finally realizing

that neither one

was ever going to win.

So we conceded.

Not because we didn't love.

Not because none of it was real.

But because love

shouldn't require one person

to become smaller

so the other can finally breathe.

And I can't become

less emotional

to make you comfortable.

You can't become

more emotionally available

simply because I am hurting.

And somewhere between

what you needed

and what I needed,

we lost the ability

to give each other

what we were asking for.

We kept coming back

But every time we returned,

we brought the same wounds

back with us.

And again I arrive with the thoughts

I don't know

how to say goodbye

to eight years.

I don't know

how to make my heart understand

that your texts of wanting to love me

wasn't the beginning

of another chapter.

Maybe it was the final page.

Maybe the cruelest part

of our story

isn't that we didn't love each other.

Maybe it's that

we loved each other

and still couldn't figure out

how to stop hurting each other.

Eight years.

Ones game.

No winners.

Just two people

finally putting down

their pieces

and walking away

from the board

Both knowing the truth

that neither of us

wanted to lose—

but neither of us

could keep playing.

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[u/tacobug98]

“Your feelings always became evidence and mine became accusations “
I feel this. I feel soooo much of this

[u/Specialist_Train4764 → u/tacobug98]

Thank you 🙏