Dumb Love

They call it dumb love—
maybe because it doesn’t listen,
doesn’t think,
doesn’t stop
even when it’s already hurting.

I think I was the only one loving you.

Not halfway,
not joking,
not just for fun—
but the kind that stays up late
building moments that never happened.

In my head,
you were there—
laughing,
talking,
close enough to feel real.

Too real
for something that never was.

And it scared me.

Because sometimes
I couldn’t even think straight
without your name
interrupting everything.

Like my world
had quietly started
to revolve around you.

And I hated that.

I told myself,
“This isn’t me.”
“I’m not like this.”
“I should stop.”

But feelings don’t follow rules.

So I stayed—
even when something inside me whispered,
*“Find someone who chooses you.”*

Still, I chose you.
Again and again.

Until someone new came—
gentle hands,
soft voice,
kind in ways
you never tried to be.

And for a second,
my heart paused.

“What if?”
it asked.

But before I could answer,
another voice stepped in—
familiar,
painful.

The kind that leaves
when something better comes along,
the kind that makes you feel
replaceable.

And I realized—

I don’t just fall in love,
I hold on
even when I’m already being let go.

So when he held my hand
and said he liked me,
I didn’t feel butterflies.

I felt confusion.

Because how do you accept something real
when you’re still stuck
loving something that was never yours?

Maybe that’s why they call it dumb love.

Not because it’s stupid—
but because it stays
even when it shouldn’t.

And maybe one day,
I’ll learn the difference
between holding on
and letting go.

But today—

I’m still here,
heart full,
mind tired,
trying to breathe
through a love
that was never meant for me.