The Truth No One Tells You About Twin Flames (But You Need to Hear)

Though we may all feel like this journey sets us apart, like we’ve been chosen for something rare, mystical, and beyond ordinary understanding, the truth is—we are all exactly the same.

Every person on this path has been drawn into it by a wound. A deep, aching wound that, in some form, has manifested as rejection.

For some of us, it was outright—words spoken, choices made, actions taken that left no doubt in our minds that we were not chosen. For others, it is silence. Absence. A connection that feels as though it should be ours, for all the magical and impossible reasons, but has never fully arrived.

And no matter how it unfolded, we all find ourselves here, trying to make sense of it, trying to find a way through.

The reality is, we are here because of a wound. Whether it’s the reason we found them or the reason they are no longer in our reality, it all comes back to the same truth: something inside us believes we are not worthy of being chosen.

Everyone on the twin flame journey carries a self-worth wound. It’s not a coincidence; it’s the core of why we are here.

The Wound That Brought Us Here

The wound of rejection cuts deeper than any other.

It is ridiculously intense for everyone.

It is the ultimate confirmation of our greatest fear:

I am not enough. 

They are saying, whether through words or silence, I don’t choose you. I don’t choose to build a life with you. 

Whether spoken or unspoken, the message is clear.

And the more deeply we feel rejected, the more we obsess. We search for signs, we look for loopholes, we try to find a way out of the pain.

But here’s the hardest truth of all: holding onto the label, attaching to their return, is bypassing the real work.

The pain isn’t in their absence. It isn’t in their choices. It’s in what their absence and their choices are forcing us to see about ourselves. The real wound is inside us.

And so we stand at a crossroads. Do we let this wound define us? Do we stay in a place of waiting, holding onto the label, hoping that someday they will return? Or do we face what this journey is actually asking of us—to heal?

Healing the wound does not guarantee their return. That is perhaps the hardest truth to accept. Yes, it might shift something. Yes, it might open a path for reunion. But what if it takes a lifetime? What if it never happens? What if, in the waiting, we sacrifice our own lives, our dreams, the families we might have built?

For those who are in relationships but longing for another, the wound is different, but no less painful. The feeling that something is missing, that the love we want exists but is just out of reach, becomes its own kind of torment.

And for those who have fallen for someone unavailable, the belief that fate has cruelly separated us keeps us trapped. If only circumstances were different. If only they were free. If only, if only, if only…

But whether it’s rejection, separation, or longing, the truth remains:

They are not part of our future for a reason.

And if we keep holding on, we are choosing to suffer.

Though the circumstances differ, the experience is the same.

It doesn’t matter how much love was there. It doesn’t matter how powerful the connection is. It doesn’t matter how much we want it to be different.

They haven't chosen us. And we have to let them go.

Rejection is an initiation. It brings us to our knees, cracks us open, forces us to look for meaning in the pain. The more deeply we feel rejected, the more we obsess—scanning for signs, seeking reassurance, looking for an escape from the ache of it. But clinging to the label, attaching to their return as the resolution, is bypassing the real work. The wound is ours to heal, not through their love, but through our own.

At some point, we must trust that it is over or it's never going to happen.

We must let them go—not just physically, but energetically, emotionally, spiritually.

We must grieve. Because only in grieving can we move forward, not in waiting, but in living.

The twin flame journey is not about being chosen by them; it is about choosing ourselves.

The Root: The Moment We Were Torn from Love

This wound did not begin with them. It did not begin with romance, rejection, or even childhood. It began the moment we were born.

We entered this world separated from our mother’s love—physically cut from her, thrust from the warmth and safety of her body into a cold, unfamiliar world. We came into existence screaming, because birth is painful. Not just for those who deliver us, but for us as well.

And on a metaphysical level, it goes even deeper.

Birth is the moment we are torn from God—from divine love, from total comfort, from the place where we were held without pain. In that transition, we forget who we are. We forget that we are love. That we are worthy of love simply by existing.

And so, our struggle begins.

The Wound Repeats Until We See It

This wound does not remain in the moment of birth. It follows us. It writes itself into our childhood, embedding itself so deeply that we mistake it for reality.

For some, it is a moment so small it should not have mattered. A mother, overwhelmed, turns away when we cry. A father, distracted, fails to notice our need. A sibling takes up all the attention, and for a moment, we do not feel chosen.

For others, it is far more extreme. A parent who abandons us. A mother who withholds love, making us earn it. A father who dies too soon, leaving a void we will spend our lives trying to fill. Abuse. Neglect. Loss.

But whether our wound was a single moment or a lifetime of hurt, the message in these moments is always the same:

I am not enough.

I do not deserve love.

I must prove my worth.

Something is wrong with me. I do not deserve love.

And so, we repeat it.

That belief shaped us. It became our foundation. It became the lens through which we saw the world.

Every lover, every friend, every person who has ever left us—they were all pressing on the same wound. This is in our blueprint. Our subconscious will attract the same pain, over and over, until we finally see it for what it is.

And so then, of course, we found the ultimate someone who would confirm it. Of course, we found a love that was the most intense, beautiful, and ultimately unavailable. Of course, we met someone who would leave. Because that is the shape of our wound.

And instead of facing it, we call it fate.

We cling to the twin flame label, waiting for divine timing, hoping for fate to intervene once again—it’s all a way to avoid facing the pain of rejection.

It’s easier to believe in the magic of reunion than to feel the full depth of being unwanted.

We convince ourselves that the pain means something. That if we just wait long enough, do enough inner work, heal enough, they will return.

We lie to ourselves. Because the truth is unbearable.

I know what you're thinking now. Oh yes, I know this, I've healed this. But you are wrong. Your mind is telling you stories (it likes to do that - start paying attention).

If you are here. If your twin is not with you. If they are with you but things feel difficult. Then you have not healed this wound.

As within, so without.

Our reality will always reflect the truth.

If you are still here, still waiting, still longing, still feeling unchosen, then I repeat—you have not healed this wound.

Because when you do, your reality will change.

The Cost of Waiting

Yes, healing may change everything. It may shift your energy, alter your reality, even bring them back. But what if it takes a lifetime? What if it doesn’t happen at all?

Are you willing to put your life on hold for the chance that they might return?

Are you willing to wait years, decades, forever—just to see if one day they wake up and choose you?

And here’s an even bigger question:

What if, once you heal, they no longer seem appealing?

What if this connection, which has felt like the axis of your entire world, is only powerful because of the wound it pressed on?

What if they were never meant to be yours, but rather, the catalyst for your deepest transformation?

Let go of the label. Let go of the idea that their return is the happy ending to your story. The only thing that matters is you. Your healing. Your life. Because whether or not they ever come back, you deserve to be happy.

The Wound We Must Face

This person has pressed on your wound like a bear pawing at an open cut. It’s broken you apart in the worst way. And yet, maybe that was the point.

Because your worth was never tied to them. It was never about being chosen. Your worth exists because you were born.

You deserve to be loved. You deserve to be chosen. Just because you are.

There Is No Choice But to Let Go

This is not about choosing yourself. This is not about doing the work in the hopes of bringing them back.

This is about seeing what is already true.

• They are not here.

• They do not love you the way you love them.

• They are not waiting for you.

• They are living their life.

  
  

And if you are still waiting, still longing, still hoping—you are choosing to suffer.

Holding on is not devotion. It is self-inflicted misery.

We must stop looking for meaning in our own rejection.

We must stop pretending that waiting is a noble path.

We must stop using the twin flame label as an excuse to avoid the pain of loss.

This is not a pause in the story. There is no next chapter with them.

It is over.

They haven't chosen us and we have to let them leave.

We have no choice but to accept it.

The Only Way Forward

Letting go does not mean giving up on love. It does not mean settling for less. It does not mean abandoning the depth of what we felt.

It means trusting that this ending is for a reason.

We were not meant to be with them.

We were meant to heal.

We were meant to live.

And when we do that—when we truly stop waiting, when we release the grip we have on the past, when we grieve fully and let go—life opens up again.

Maybe that means finding a love that is real, present, and available.

Maybe that means rediscovering joy in life without needing another person to complete it.

Maybe that means simply waking up one day and realising we are finally free.

But one thing is certain:

The pain will only end when we stop choosing it.

Let them go. Trust that this is over.

And start living again.

Further Thoughts: What Do You Actually Want?

Stop for a moment. Strip away the twin flame label. Strip away the spiritual rhetoric. Forget everything you've read, everything you've convinced yourself this journey means.

Now ask yourself:

• What do you actually want out of life?

• What if you had to make a choice? An unknown future where they might come back if you heal, or a life of joy right now—with someone who chooses you, someone you can heal alongside?

• What if holding on is keeping you from the love that is already available to you?

  
  

We tell ourselves this connection is rare. That it’s set apart. That we are different from other people because of what we’ve experienced.

And maybe that’s true. But if it is, it’s only because we chose an unbelievably hard life to heal from.

Our wounds have been screaming for attention since childhood. Every painful moment, every heartbreak, every time we felt abandoned—it’s been the same wound, playing on repeat. And yes, maybe healing it does unlock something incredible. Maybe the twin flame union is the most magical, extraordinary relationship that has ever existed.

But right now, it isn’t here.

Which makes you no different than Millie down the road who broke up with her first love (who was a wanker by the way) and is still obsessed years later, convinced she’ll never love again.

You are the same. Your wound is the same. The rejection is the same.

The only difference is the story you’re telling yourself about it.

And here’s the part no one wants to admit—playing the victim gets us nowhere.

We all do it. I’ve done it. You’ve done it.

I'm still doing it:

Oh, poor me. My life is so hard. This connection is special, so rare, so true, so magical. How can I possibly let it go? God wouldn't want that? Why oh why is this happening to me? It's so unfair. So lonely. So impossible. Boo hoo hoo.

It’s all bullshit.

It’s bypassing.

We are where we are. And we have no choice but to accept it.

We have to let go of the past—the way we saw it, the way we wanted it to be, the way we think it should have played out. Because it didn’t.

We have to let go of the future—the way we envision it, the way we hope it will be, the way we believe it’s meant to unfold. Because right now, it isn’t.

And don’t you see?

We are all healing the same wound. We are all bringing an end to the same story.

And what happens next?

We don’t know.

Maybe your twin comes running back and it’s everything you imagined.

Maybe you meet someone new, and one day, you look at them and think, thank god I let go.

And maybe, years from now, you’re happily married with kids, looking back on this moment, saying:

"Thank goodness I made that choice. Thank goodness I stopped waiting. Thank goodness I chose to live."

Because in the end, that’s what this is really about.

Choosing to live.

A note on AI & my writing:

I use ChatGPT as a writing assistant—not as a writer. These are my thoughts, ideas, and words, shaped by my lived experience and deep love for self-work, self-awareness, the spiritual journey, and astrology. AI helps me refine, structure, and occasionally nudge me toward better phrasing, but the voice you’re reading is mine. I use it as a tool to help me put into words everything I believe is valuable in sharing my insights. Honesty matters to me, and this is simply one way I bring my thoughts to life.