Sometimes we fall in love with the potential, not the reality.

On hope, heartbreak and hard truths.

I won’t admit this idea came from one of my regular Instagram doom scrolls, but hey, at least I’m bringing you some gist.

I honestly can’t remember where exactly I saw it, but what I do remember is stumbling across this title in my Notes app last night… with absolutely nothing under it. (Fareedah, you really have to do better.)

So, me doing better? It looks like writing this and sending it to you guys today.

There’s a version of them I fell in love with. Not the one I saw every day, but the one I imagined they could become. The one I believed in. The one I made room for in my mind long before they ever became real.

It’s a quiet kind of heartbreak, falling in love with potential. Because you’re not grieving a person, you’re grieving a future that never came. A version of love that only existed in your imagination. And somehow, that’s harder to let go of. There’s no closure in it. Just a lingering “what if.”

Image from Pinterest.

We don’t talk enough about this, about how often we get attached not to what is, but to what could be. How we hold on for the moments that almost felt like what we wanted. How we tell ourselves, “If I just wait a little longer,” or “Maybe they just need time.” We build bridges between red flags and call it patience. We water empty soil and call it faith.

But loving someone’s potential is like holding onto smoke. There’s nothing solid to build on. And still, we try. We hold on, to the glimpses of softness, the occasional effort, the words that hinted at growth and the glimmers that felt like promises.

I used to think that holding on was proof of love. That staying through silence, through inconsistency, through unmet needs was noble. That it meant I saw the best in someone. And maybe I did. But I’ve learned that seeing the best in someone doesn’t mean you have to suffer through the worst of them. Because a person doesn't change unless they want to.

There’s a point where staying becomes self-betrayal. Where the “maybes” and “somedays” start to chip away at your peace. Where love turns into waiting. Waiting for them to choose you fully. Waiting for them to grow into the person they said they wanted to be. Waiting for the potential to finally become reality.

But what if it never does?

What if they stay the same?

What if this- this inconsistency, this confusion, this lack of clarity- is the reality?

Then what?

Then you choose yourself. You choose truth. You choose the version of your life where you are loved in the present, not in a possibility. You let go, not because you stopped loving them, but because you started loving yourself more.

It’s not easy. Letting go never is. Especially when you’ve built a home in someone’s potential. But you deserve to live in something real. Something that holds you, not haunts you.

If you’re reading this and it feels a little too close to home, maybe that’s your sign. Maybe it’s time to stop waiting. Maybe it’s time to stop hoping for a change that only you seem to want. Maybe it’s time to grieve the dream, and walk toward the peace that’s waiting on the other side.

Hope is beautiful. But peace is better.

And sometimes, the most loving thing you can do is to finally let go.

Your anonymous bestie

Ree🤍