The Art of Never Enough

Have you ever tried to pour yourself into someone so completely, only to find that no matter how much you give, they’re still empty? You cook the dinner, write the sweet texts, show up for them in every way you can imagine—and yet, it’s never enough.

At first, you think, Maybe I need to try harder. You start rearranging pieces of yourself, tweaking the parts they don’t seem to notice. Maybe if you’re funnier, more understanding, less demanding—then they’ll finally see you the way you’ve been seeing them. But the truth is, it’s not you. It’s them.

They weren’t in the right space to appreciate you. Hell, they weren’t in the right space to appreciate anyone. And deep down, you know this. But instead of facing the reality, you focus on what you could’ve done.

It’s a dangerous game, this mental re-editing of your past. You replay every interaction, every text left on read, every late-night conversation that went nowhere. You keep asking yourself, What more could I have done? when the answer is simple: nothing.

Nothing. Because you could’ve written them love letters in the sky, and they still wouldn’t have had the capacity—or the courage—to commit to you.

The truth is, they didn’t have the balls to step up. They saw what you brought to the table—your kindness, your wit, your unwavering effort—and they got scared. Not scared of you, but scared of themselves. Because being with you meant stepping into something real, and they weren’t ready for that kind of responsibility.

Some people would rather live in chaos than face the calm of being loved properly. And you? You became their collateral damage.

But here’s the thing: someone who can’t appreciate you will always make you feel like you’re not enough. Not because you aren’t, but because they need to deflect their own inadequacies. It’s easier for them to make you feel small than to admit that they’re the ones who don’t measure up.

The song Messy by Lola Young perfectly captures this dynamic. She sings about the heartbreak of giving your all to someone who’s too tangled in their own mess to see what’s right in front of them. And if that’s not the story of “never enough,” I don’t know what is.

But here’s where we get it wrong: we think their inability to commit says something about us. It doesn’t. Their mess, their fear, their indecision—it’s all about them.

So, the next time you catch yourself wondering if you could’ve done more, remind yourself of this: you showed up. You cared. You gave. And they weren’t ready. That’s not a reflection of your worth; it’s a reflection of their lack.

And as for you? Stop trying to fill someone else’s emptiness. Save your love, your energy, your enoughness for someone who sees it, values it, and is brave enough to meet you halfway. Because you? You’re more than enough—you’re everything.