It&rsquo;s crazy how a three-letter word can lord over a relationship built from a four-letter one. I never knew how the word &lsquo;try&rsquo; could make enough hairline cracks on a foundation built from &lsquo;love&rsquo; that it actually crumbles a little bit day by day.
And honestly, the worst part of it all is writing this in the past tense, using words that (unfortunately) signify something that happened in a time where I can&rsquo;t return to.
He used to try. Really, really try. He showed up, made time, and put in effort, but somewhere along the way, things changed. He started giving less, doing less, saying less.&nbsp;
Not because he stopped caring entirely, but because he got comfortable.&nbsp;
Too comfortable.&nbsp;
They say complacency is a signifier of familiarity, but I&rsquo;ve never known him less right now.
I don&rsquo;t blame him for being this way. Or at least, the bigger person in me doesn&rsquo;t. He believed I would never leave&ndash;that my loyalty meant he didn&rsquo;t have to work as hard anymore. No matter how distant or careless he became, I would stay.
I did. I stayed until he stopped calling me pretty. I stood by him as he stopped noticing the little things&ndash;the way I&rsquo;d fix my hair, the effort I put into dressing up, even if it was just to sit beside him. He stopped saying thank you for the small acts of love I gave so freely.&nbsp;
I wasn&rsquo;t asking for much&ndash;I just wanted to be seen, to be appreciated, and to feel like I still mattered.
In a life where freedom means peace, he lived freely while I was stuck at home, trapped in a routine that didn&rsquo;t feel like mine. I kept missing out on chances, adventures, and memories I should&rsquo;ve been making in her 20s. My world became smaller while his stayed wide open.&nbsp;
Still, I stayed&ndash;out of love, out of hope, out of the belief that maybe he&rsquo;d try again.
But love doesn&rsquo;t thrive in silence. It doesn&rsquo;t grow in places where someone is constantly overlooked. I waited for him to look at me the way he used to, for him to choose me the way I chose him every day.
He thought he had me forever. But even the strongest hearts grow tired. Tired of not being seen. Tired of feeling unloved. Tired of waiting for effort that never comes.
The difference between him and me is the word &lsquo;try,&rsquo; and as much as I&rsquo;d love to keep giving us a try, I don&rsquo;t think I can anymore.