Falling in love with someone who couldn't love me back.

There is a specific cruelty in being loved as a friend by someone you love as more. We were best friends for three years. He knew how I felt. He was never unkind about it. He didn't lead me on, didn't use it, didn't pretend. He was just honest: he didn't feel the same way. And he hoped we could still be close. For a while, we were. I thought I could manage it. I told myself I had. And then one day he told me he'd started seeing someone, and I realised I had been lying to myself for three years. I had to end the friendship. Not because I was angry at him — I wasn't. But because every conversation had become me quietly hoping for something that wasn't coming. I needed to stop. And stopping meant losing the person I talked to most. That kind of grief is strange because it isn't allowed to be visible. You can't tell people you're devastated by unrequited feelings the same way you can tell them you're devastated by a breakup. People are less patient with it. "But he never hurt you." "At least he was honest." "You knew it wasn't going anywhere." I came to Kandhaa because I needed somewhere that wouldn't time-limit my feelings. The connection I found here — with people who'd been through similar, equally "illegitimate" grief — was the first time I felt genuinely seen in months. Unrequited love is real love. It deserves real healing space.