The most recent update from someone that I can see is from February of 2020, and I am currently living in January of 2022. This entire thread is from the points of views of the people who are experiencing their loss of love, but I want to talk about the other side of it – I am the person who stopped being loved.

I apologize in advance, because this is a super long explanation.

My boyfriend and I were together for six months. We had been friends since 2015, we met in math class as teenagers. We were only ever friends, but had small crushes on each other at different points throughout high school, the timing was just never right.

June 6th, 2021, we rekindled our friendship, and got to know each other better. He was there for me like nobody else was, and I did the same for him. We were practically inseparable.

June 30th, 2021, we decided to be together. When our relationship began, he was a Prince Charming, everything I have ever wanted and more. He said he felt the same about me, as though all this time, the person we were searching for were simply each other all along. He would walk across town for me, and I the same for him. We went on a spontaneous weekend trip to Colorado together, it felt like a fairytale.

Our relationship was not perfect, but it was close enough. We did not yell or belittle each other during conflict, we did not commit petty acts against each other, nothing malicious. We experienced all of the sappy, lovey-dovey clichés of newfound romance. I loved everything about him, from the way he laughed to the way he cried. His irregular heartbeat, the scars on his back, his greasy, unwashed hair. Even his “flaws” were something I admired. His growth, his character, his beautiful development. The way his eyes squinted when he jokingly told me to shut up, how asymmetrically he drew hearts onto my nose with his thumb. Small details were so momentous to me. How he sang to me on the balcony, how he squeezed my hands gently every time he held them. The way he’d kiss me twice, every time we kissed, like a rhythmic pattern of music we created with our love. Or how his nose would scrunch up when I booped it. He told me that I am the most beautiful, understanding, and loving woman he has ever met. We wanted to spend our lives together and even discussed it very often.

In the middle of August, his roommate had kicked him out, and he was forced to move back into his parents’ place. This put a dent in his self-esteem that nobody could fix, not even him as of late. But on August 30th, 2021, I moved into his place as well, due to my own personal apartment situation having not worked out. This didn’t add any extra stress on either of us, in fact, we both felt it may have lifted some of the weight of life off.

However, about 2.5 months into our relationship, he had experienced a feeling of unworthiness. It was September 15, 2021, that he felt he didn’t deserve to be loved by me. I didn’t agree, so I sat down and convinced him otherwise. He cleared his mind and believed me, realizing that I am the only one who can decide who is worth my time. As far as I’m concerned, he was worth all of the time in the world, and I did everything in my power to prove that to him, and mostly, he did the same.

When things cooled down, I didn’t bring up the situation again because I simply wanted to move past it. I saw no point in torturing him by reminding him of it. Everything continued as smoothly as they could (considering the obvious), until suddenly, like spontaneous combustion of our relationship, he felt nothing. The flame we had, had burnt his house down in his mind. At first, he reacted much like everyone else in this thread did. He cried, he apologized to me continually, said he did not understand what was happening and he wished he could feel the same again. He felt as though he was committing a high-end crime by not loving me. All I could do was cry myself and tell him that it’s okay. It was not his fault, I told him that sometimes things happen and they are out of our control. I in no way wanted to make him feel worse than he (clearly) already did. He had asked me to leave, and I respected his wishes.

However, he told me that everything around him felt numb as well, and claimed that this attributed to his feelings for me. I trusted him, so we remained in contact: I continued to visit his house, we’d text, call, etc. Within a week, he was sobbing in my arms saying that he loves me again, he doesn’t think he ever stopped, or that maybe he was just lost. He told me he felt terrible for putting me through that emotional rollercoaster. I accepted him with open arms and refused to let go, I was just grateful that I had gotten this unfathomable second chance to be with him again.

That was, until things looked grim once more. Again, a month had passed, and I had grown tired of living in his father’s basement. I asked him to move out with me on November 17, 2021. He was fearful for our stability, so I plotted out a well-thought plan to secure our life together. He didn’t find it suitable and felt that the two of us were on separate paths, that we should take a break from living together. He was struggling financially and emotionally, so he said he was not ready to move out of his parents’ house. I understood, asked him to reconsider, once he refused, I decided to just get my own place. I made sure he was aware that he could join me at any given moment. He was accepting of the offer, despite never having taken it.

We continued to maintain our regular relationship normality from afar: we’d go on dates, kiss, hug, text, call, sleep on the phone, I’d stay the night, we’d have sex, and we agreed that neither of us wanted anybody to know that we were not technically together. I went to Thanksgiving at his mother’s house, we went stargazing together, he’d lay his head on my chest, cry about how life is, and I’d pet his hair. We’d watch movies, I’d bake him Pokémon cookies, it seemed like everything would be okay. Even if I felt that we were separate, I was making the most of the time we had together. Undoubtedly, though, I had a feeling in the back of my mind that we were a ticking time-bomb. I never said it out loud for the fear of manifesting our demise, but as it turns out, staying quiet made no difference.

I feel every month was something new to check off of our list of mistakes, because a month into our “break”, I had found out that he had broken a huge boundary of ours. I confronted him, devastated, crying my eyes out. Normally, when I confront him, I am calm and rational, but I could not contain my sadness and anguish. He cried as well, just as hard as I did, apologizing, swearing he would never do it again, swearing on his life, his mother’s life, his cat’s life, anything he could to make me grasp that he meant what he was saying. He begged me not to leave him, he hyperventilated on my bed. Despite the fact that he hurt me, I held him anyway. I asked him why I was not good enough, if I was not good enough. He told me that I am, that I am everything he has ever wanted, that I mean the world to him, that what he did does not change how he felt about me. I calmly asked him to leave, I needed space to think. I let him know that I would forgive him in time. So he left, but not peacefully. He was crying his lungs out about how I’ll never have to see him again, how he will never hurt me again, how he will never hurt anyone again. So I opened my front door, and stood in the doorway staring at him down the hallway. He ran back to the apartment door and hugged me tighter than we’ve ever hugged before. He fell apart, telling me he loves me, that he’s sorry, and that he’ll do whatever it takes to fix this.

Yet, five minutes later, it was all gone. Like his love for me was an hour glass, and instead of the sand slowly flowing down and away, it shattered all over the table. I had ran a bath to help myself relax and set my feet into it. He stared at me from behind and softly said, “I don’t think this is going to work”. I turned around in complete and utter shock, and asked him “why?” He said “I feel weird. It doesn’t feel the same anymore”. I gently pulled him to the toilet and set him to sit, crouched to my knees, and held his hands. I stared into his eyes, which looked so weary with guilt and sadness, and he responded to me, “before, when I held your hands, I knew that they were your hands. Now, as I’m holding them, I just see them as hands.” I felt my heart sink into my stomach, and put my hand on his face, “baby, what do you mean? I love you, everything is going to be okay.” He shook his head and softly said, “before, when you touched my face, I felt all your love, all your warmth, I felt comforted. Right now, I just feel weird. I feel guilty, I feel sad, I feel uncomfortable.” I removed my hand and started softly crying. I couldn’t do anything but say “okay”, and sit on the edge of the bathtub. He started to say sorry again, as if it’s something he can control. I reiterated that he didn’t have to apologize to me, because he is not doing this with malice.

This happened December 22, 2021. At this point, I had already bought Christmas gifts for his entire family, and them for me, we had planned out our stay with each other for the 24th and 25th, we both felt it would be a waste to simply not go through with it. We did not speak for the two days leading up to it, but he came to my father’s for Christmas Eve. What confused me is how he still chose to match clothes with me, on his own accord. He sat beside me to keep up appearances, but when asked, ensured me that he still had no feelings for me. Regardless, I had stayed the night with him to follow through with our plan to go to his mother’s on Christmas Day. We slept in the same bed. We did not look at each other. We did not touch. Still, it was the best sleep I had gotten in weeks. The following day, at his mother’s, he, again, chose to match clothes with me. He wanted to keep up appearances just for the day, even despite how awkward it was. He laid on me, because he thought I was sad. I asked why, and his answer was “I feel like this will make you feel better.” So I told him that it doesn’t, but I appreciate it, and to not do things that he didn’t genuinely want, seeing as it gave me mixed signals. He nodded and moved away. Later in the day, he was the sad one. I was not paying much attention to him because I did not want to overwhelm him. However, when I noticed he was sad, I reminded him that, even if he doesn’t love me, I still love him, and I am here to comfort him if he needs me. He looked at me with soft eyes, and laid on me again. I repeated that he doesn’t need to do that if he doesn’t want to, but all he did was nod and remained with his head on my lap.

We went to his father’s for the remainder of Christmas Day, to open our other gifts. He kept nudging me (in his teasing way, as he always does). When everyone left, he asked me to come downstairs with him, and I abided. Nothing happened here aside from him having me try this drink he really likes, and I did so because I knew it would make him happy. It was sooo gross, but we both laughed and he gulped it down for me so I didn’t have to finish it. When he decided that he wants to go to sleep, I packed the rest of my personal things up, and left our relationship things there. We had a box of things that reminded us of each other, a love-journal with only one entry (that he has never read, because he does not know of it), and our stuffed animal “children” which we named together.

We agreed to no longer hang out with each other after Christmas Day, but continued to text on and off. He told me still he does not understand why he stopped loving me, that I did nothing wrong, and that he is going to get help and get better. He does not want me to move on, but does not want me to wait for him, either. He understands if I do not want to stick around because everything is a lot. He said that he wants to keep our things as a reminder of what we were, so that when he is healthy again, he remembers that it was me who had made him happy before. He told me he worries that he will miss out on things like marrying me, having children with me, growing old with me, but that he fears he won’t progress.

On January 10th, 2022, it was my birthday and he spent time with me and our friends at the bowling alley. He stared at me the whole time, walked me to the bathroom, and even asked me for a hug at one point. My sister had won a monkey plushie (his favorite animal) out of a claw machine, and we convinced the employee to let him keep it. He and I named the monkey and the clown fish plushie directly after getting them. Almost as if nothing had changed between us. When we dropped him off, he hugged me again, and it broke the crackers in his pocket – but he had told me he was glad to have done so if it meant hugging me. Still, he does not love me.

Three days ago (January 14th, 2022), he told me he would still do anything to me, that he knows I am more important than everyone else, I am more special, but that for some reason, he lumps me in with them. He feels the same about me as he does about everyone else, empty, coexisting. He believes that because I am a part of everyone else, that that means we should completely cut off contact, and I felt hurt. He was describing me in detail exactly what I believe love to me, but simultaneously telling me that he feels nothing for me. That he’d do anything for me, he’s still attracted to me, that I’m still everything he ever wanted, and that if anyone deserved to be loved by him, it’d be me. He says he hardly thinks of me because his brain is in overdrive, but that, when he does, he misses me. That certain songs remind him of me and make him feel sad, yet also happy at the memories we created together. He says that he does not want to move on, that he has zero interest in anyone else or in finding anyone else. He says that when the time comes, the first person to know that he is okay will be me, but that as of now, no-contact is best. Part of me disagreed, but I ultimately decided to let him go. I know that what is happening is out of either of our control, and that all it is doing is damaging me further. Every day I can’t help but to wonder if it was my fault, if there was something more I could have done – if there still is. I constantly play the “what-if” game in my head. Playing ping-pong on the question of whether he loves me deep down, like before, or if this is truly the end for us.

I know this thread has been people who experienced the loss of love first-person, struggling to accept it. I just thought I should give some insight on how badly I am struggling, myself, on the opposite end of the spectrum.

It is January 17, 2022. I still love him, and am beginning to fear that I will never stop.

“After all this time?”

“Always.”