i am not her

i learned it slowly, the way you learn limits not from rejection, but from how easily you said her name. i was never promised anything. i was just there when laughter needed a witness, when the night needed company, when the road needed two helmets instead of one. i mistook comfort for direction. i mistook kindness for leaning. i mistook closeness for a door that might open. but some doors are walls painted warmly. you choose her without hesitation, without consequence, without knowing what it costs me to smile and stay. i do not compete. i do not confess. i do not step forward where I was never meant to stand. i love you quietly, the kind of love that behaves, that keeps its hands to itself, that knows its place. i am not her. i never was. and maybe someday i will stop measuring myself against a love that was never meant to see me.