The Pain of Being in Love With Someone You Can’t Have

There’s a particular kind of pain in falling in love with someone you can’t have.

You never lost them.

They were never yours to lose.

And maybe that’s what makes it so difficult.

They can still be right there. You can talk to them, laugh with them, look forward to seeing them, and feel better simply because they walked into the room.

And sometimes it’s the smallest things that hurt the most.

The smell of their hair when they’re standing close to you.

Hearing their laugh from across the room and knowing exactly who it is without even looking.

A silly touch on your arm that probably meant nothing to them—and somehow means everything to you.

The way they say your name.

The smile they give you when they first see you.

A conversation you wish would last another hour.

Standing just a little too close and being painfully aware of every inch between you.

Wanting to reach for their hand and knowing you can’t.

Because there’s a line you know you can’t cross.

So there’s nothing to end.

Nothing to get over in the usual sense.

Instead, you also carry around all the things that never happened.

The first kiss.

Waking up beside them.

Going somewhere together just because you can.

Finding out what the two of you might have been like when nobody else was around.

You can miss something you never actually had.

And somehow the feelings are completely real anyway.

And hope makes it harder.

A look lasts a little too long. A conversation feels a little too personal. They touch your arm again. They say something that makes you wonder.

And for a moment, you imagine that maybe things could be different.

Then reality comes back.

Perhaps that’s the hardest part of loving someone you can’t have:

You don’t know what to do with the hope.

Because some part of you still wonders.

What if things were different?

What if someday they are?

What if this thing I feel isn’t as impossible as it seems?

So you don’t let go.

But you can’t move forward either.

You just carry it.

The love.

The possibility.

The hope.

And the painful awareness that the person you want is close enough to love...

but, at least for now, not close enough to have.