Part Three:

It Was Always Me

Becoming Nina

I used to think I missed them.

That the heartbreak was about losing them.

But over time, I realized something bigger:

I was mourning the version of them I created.

Because it was always me.

I was the one who saw the potential.

The one who made them feel like more than they were.

The one who turned something average into something beautiful.

Not because they were extraordinary—

but because my love is.

They weren’t special on their own.

I made them feel special.

I gave the relationship meaning.

I made it deep.

I made it magical.

And that’s why it hurt so much to leave—

because I thought I was walking away from something powerful.

But I wasn’t.

That power was mine.

That light came from me.

And when I left, it left with me.

Love is perception.

It’s not always reality.

And when you love someone deeply,

you can convince yourself that they’re more than they are—

because of what you pour into them.

But here’s what you need to know:

That love goes with you.

It doesn’t stay behind.

You can give it again—

to someone who’s actually worthy of it.

You weren’t lucky to have them.

They were lucky to be loved by you.

I’ve stayed in situations I had no business staying in.

Not because I didn’t know better—

but because I kept hoping I could love it into alignment.

If I softened more.

If I held it down.

If I didn’t make waves.

If I just stayed patient—

they’d change.

It would click.

It’d finally feel right.

But that shift never came.

Because I was the one doing all the work.

The one trying to make it feel like something it never was.

That’s when the truth hit me again:

It was always me.

Not in a guilt way.

In a clarity way.

I was the one building.

The one maintaining.

The one creating the illusion of something solid—

when really, I was just holding it together on my own.

And that’s where the real lesson came in:

Someone doesn’t have to be toxic to be wrong for you.

They don’t have to be cruel to be incompatible.

They don’t have to be a bad person—

to still be the wrong person.

If someone moves through life without noticing how they affect you—

if they dismiss your needs,

disrupt your peace,

and still think everything’s fine—

they’re not your match.

Now, I don’t measure love by words.

I measure it by presence.

By action.

By how much someone sees me—

and shows up like they value what they see

Because here’s the truth about life and love

The universe will keep sending you the same kind of person

in a different body

until you finally choose differently

Until you say,

“This version of me deserves more.”

Until you stop building homes in places that drain you

Because the universe doesn’t give you what you wish for—

it gives you what you mirror.

If you haven’t healed,

if you’re still avoiding your truth,

you’ll attract partners who reflect those wounds.

Not to punish you—

but to show you what still needs healing.

And if you ignore that mirror—

if you run from the discomfort into the next body,

the next high,

the next fake peace—

you don’t heal.

You just delay i

You patch the surface,

but the wound stays open.

You have to sit with it.

You have to stop chasing connection

and start reconnecting with yourself.

Most people don’t leave because they’re still in love.

They stay because they can’t be alone.

They can’t face themselves.

So they settle.

That’s why people stay in unhappy marriages.

Why they cling to dead relationships.

Not because it’s love—

but because they haven’t learned how to love themselves.

If you can’t be alone,

you’ll always settle for less

just to avoid being with yourself.

You’ll stay in places you’ve outgrown

because silence feels scarier than suffering.

That’s not love.

That’s fear.

Loving yourself means learning to be alone—

and not just surviving it,

but owning it.

Finding joy and peace in your own company.

So when someone comes along,

they’re adding to your life,

not filling a hole.

Self-love isn’t a luxury.

It’s survival.

It’s choosing silence over chaos.

It’s walking away even when it hurts.

It’s saying, “I won’t keep doing this to myself.”

And I know this because I’ve lived it.

Escorting—yeah, the thing most people judge—

taught me what real value looks like.

When your body is your business,

you learn the difference between giving and selling.

You learn to guard your energy.

To recognize when someone only sees you for what they can take.

It forced me to face the parts of myself I wanted to avoid.

And it taught me that self-love isn’t about looking strong.

It’s about being honest—even in the ugly moments.

When you don’t love yourself,

you’ll take whatever’s offered

just to avoid being alone.

You’ll cling to potential

and ignore reality.

But when you do love yourself—

you move different.

You stop begging.

You stop explaining.

You stop shrinking just to be chosen.

You know your worth,

and you don’t barter with it.

And when that shift happens?

Everything changes.

The healed version of you doesn’t flinch at red flags—

You don't confuse effort with alignment—

You know what being met feels like

And most of all—

You dont wait for love to complete you.

You are the love.

You Bring the love.

And you know: the magic isn’t out there—

it’s within you.

So to anyone who’s thinking of going back,

of settling,

of staying just to avoid the silence—

Don’t

Don’t be afraid to leave what’s misaligned.

Don’t be afraid to go searching for love—

even if the person you’re searching for is you.

Because when you become someone you love,

someone you respect,

you become magnetic.

You stop saying, “I ruined it,”

and start saying, “They weren’t for me.”

You start asking better questions:

1. If this were my daughter or my best friend, would I want them to stay?

2. Am I staying because it’s real—or because I’m afraid?

3. Do they care for my peace—or just need me to manage theirs?

4. Do they fit who I’m becoming—or who I used to be?

If those questions make you squirm—good.

That’s your awakening.

That’s your becoming.

Because at the end of the day,

it was always me.

I was the one who made it magical.

The one who gave it depth.

The one who needed to leave.

The one who needed to heal.

The one who needed to stop giving so much to people who never earned it.

And now that I have?

I’m not waiting for someone to love me right.

I am the love.

And anyone who joins me now?

They’re stepping into a light I built.

Not to complete me—

but to grow beside me.

Love,

Nina