At twenty one, I believed that love was supposed to be intense.
Not calm. Not steady. Not quiet.
I thought love was meant to consume you. The kind that keeps you up at night, that makes you question everything, that feels so overwhelming you mistake it for something meaningful.
I didn’t know yet that intensity and love are not the same thing.
Many people in their early twenties, I was still figuring out who I was. I was balancing school, responsibilities, and trying to understand relationships at the same time. When I met someone who made me feel something strong, I assumed that meant it was real.
At first, everything felt exciting. There was a sense of closeness that I hadn’t experienced before. Conversations felt deep. The connection felt important.
But slowly, things began to shift.
The arguments started to happen more often. Small misunderstandings turned into something bigger. I found myself explaining things over and over again, trying to be understood, trying to keep things from falling apart.
Without realizing it, I became the one who was always apologizing.
Even when I didn’t fully understand what I had done wrong, I felt responsible for fixing it. I thought that if I tried harder, I could communicate better. If I was more patient, if I gave more, then things would go back to how they were in the beginning.
They didn’t.
Instead, I started to feel smaller.
There’s a subtle way that unhealthy relationships change you. It doesn’t happen all at once. It happens gradually. You begin to doubt yourself. You question your reactions. You second-guess your instincts.
You stop trusting what you feel.
The hardest part is that, deep down, you know something isn’t right.
Leaving feels harder than staying.
At twenty one, I didn’t leave right away.
Not because I didn’t see the signs, but because I wasn’t ready to accept what they meant. I held onto the version of the relationship I believed it could become, instead of the reality of what it was.
I told myself it would get better.
I told myself this was just a phase.
I told myself that love required sacrifice.
Looking back now, I realize that what I was holding onto wasn’t love. It was hope.
And hope, when placed in the wrong situation, can keep you stuck longer than you should be.
Eventually, I reached a point where I couldn’t ignore how I felt anymore.
There was a quiet moment but not dramatic, not loud where I realized I didn’t recognize myself the same way. I had spent so much time trying to make the relationship work that I had slowly disconnected from who I was.
That realization changed everything.
Leaving wasn’t easy.
It didn’t feel empowering at first. It didn’t feel like a fresh start. It felt like a loss. It felt like uncertainty. It felt like sitting in silence and facing everything I had avoided.
Over time, that silence became something else.
It became space.
Space to think clearly again.
Space to understand what I had been through.
Space to rebuild the version of myself that I had set aside.
What I learned is that love is not supposed to make you feel confused all the time. It’s not supposed to make you question your worth. It’s not supposed to leave you constantly trying to prove that you deserve to be there.
Real love is steady. It is respectful. It allows you to feel safe being who you are.
Most importantly, it does not require you to lose yourself.
The experience I went through at twenty one didn’t break me. It reshaped me. It forced me to understand boundaries, self-worth, and the importance of choosing yourself, even when it’s difficult.
That lesson is something many people learn, but not everyone talks about.
That is exactly why I chose to write about it.
Twenty One and Broken is a reflection of that time in my life. It is not just a story about a relationship. It is about the process of recognizing unhealthy patterns, finding the strength to leave, and learning how to rebuild afterward.
Sometimes, the most important thing you can do is not hold on.
It’s letting go.
Janie M Zheng is an author and student whose work focuses on love, healing, and self-discovery. Her book, Twenty One and Broken, explores the reality of relationships and the journey of choosing yourself.
Read more: https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/twenty-one-and-broken-janie-m-zheng/1149971772?ean=9798256336912
