Dear Someone: You don't have to stop loving someone to know they're not right for you.

Dear, Dear Someone, _

Love stories don't always end because love dies. Sometimes they end because love, no matter how deep or pure or passionate, cannot bridge the distance between two different life paths. Sometimes they end not with a dramatic clash of hearts, but with the quiet realization that wanting to make something work isn't the same as being able to make it work.

The hardest truth to accept is that love isn't always enough. It's a truth that feels almost blasphemous in a world that tells us love conquers all, that true love overcomes every obstacle, that if we just love hard enough, want it badly enough, try desperately enough, we can make any relationship work.

But love doesn't erase fundamental differences. It doesn't dissolve core incompatibilities. It doesn't bridge gaps in values, goals, or basic needs. Love can fill a room with warmth, but it can't change the architecture of who we fundamentally are.

There's a particular kind of heartbreak in watching yourself try to fold into smaller and smaller spaces, attempting to fit into someone else's vision of life. It's like watching yourself slowly disappear, piece by piece, compromise by compromise, until the person looking back in the mirror becomes unrecognizable.

We bend ourselves into impossible shapes, convinced that if we just try harder, contort further, sacrifice more, we can make the puzzle pieces fit. We negotiate with our own needs, bargain with our own boundaries, trade pieces of ourselves in the currency of compromise, hoping that somewhere in this exchange we'll find the magic formula that makes incompatibility dissolve.

But some differences aren't meant to be bridged. Some gaps aren't meant to be closed. Some paths, no matter how much we wish they would converge, are destined to run parallel - close enough to see each other, but never truly meeting.

The realization comes slowly, then all at once. It arrives in quiet moments when you notice how much of yourself you've had to tuck away. It surfaces in the space between what you want and what you've settled for. It emerges in the distance between who you are and who you're trying to be.

This isn't about failing at love. It's about recognizing that love, while powerful, isn't the only ingredient needed for a healthy, sustainable relationship. It's about understanding that sometimes the kindest thing we can do - for ourselves and for the person we love - is to acknowledge that wanting something to work doesn't make it workable.

Missing someone you're incompatible with is its own special kind of ache. It's the pain of knowing that the heart wants what it wants, even when the mind understands why it can't have it. It's longing not just for the person, but for a different reality where love would be enough.

But here's the truth: Accepting incompatibility isn't a failure - it's wisdom. Recognizing that some differences can't be compromised away isn't giving up - it's growing up. Understanding that love alone isn't always enough isn't cynicism - it's maturity.

Your heart can be full of love and still make the decision to walk away. Your soul can ache with missing someone and still know that distance is necessary. Your mind can understand that something isn't right for you even while your heart wishes things were different.

Remember this: You don't have to stop loving someone to know they're not right for you. You don't have to find fault in them to acknowledge incompatibility. You don't have to turn love into hate to justify letting go.

Let yourself hold both truths: that the love was real, and that it wasn't enough. That the connection was beautiful, and that it couldn't bridge every gap. That the memories are precious, and that the ending was necessary.

With gentle acceptance of what cannot be,

—Ali Papa.

PS — Sometimes the greatest act of love is letting go of someone because you love them enough to not ask them to change who they are, and you love yourself enough to do the same.

Listen to this again if you've finally realized that sometimes love alone isn't enough to bridge the fundamental differences between two hearts, and you're learning to accept that some stories end not from lack of love, but from incompatibility.

This is Acceptance!

—Thank you for taking the time to read and listen to my letters.

If you love this letter, you’ll love my books. They are written for you, to warm your heart and soul. They are written for broken hearts of all shapes and sizes. They are full of good things—everything I have been wanting to say to you and they are available for FREE download to all tribe members.

If you were unable to find yourself in today's letter, you don't have to worry. Tell me what you feel here, and I will write you a personal letter. The same God who can help you get by in life can also help you excel in life.

—Who is Ali Papa?

I'm a husband, father, friend, and merchant of faith, hope, and love, crafting heartfelt letters for every season and story. Writing to you is more than a hobby for me. It's a passion, a calling, and a way of life. I pour my heart and soul into every letter I send you, hoping to inspire you, inform you, heal with compassion, illuminate paths, instill courage, uplift spirits, spread positivity, and connect with sincerity.

My wish is that you continue to find the words that express your deepest and strongest emotions from them, regardless of the circumstances, and that you keep experiencing life, love, freedom, and fulfilment in your relationship. I live in Port Harcourt with my supportive wife and three adorable kids, who teach me the value of love every day.