Chasing Pavements: Should I Keep Going or Let Go?

When Adele sang “Should I give up, or should I just keep chasing pavements?” I never thought those words would someday feel like the perfect soundtrack of my own relationship.

I’ve been in a relationship for nine years now—almost a decade. That’s a long time to be with someone, long enough to know their habits, dreams, fears, and flaws. But here’s the hard part I’ve been silently wrestling with: what if after all those years, I feel unseen, unheard, and unappreciated?

My partner has always been driven by his wants, his dreams, and his own version of the future. At first, I admired it—who wouldn’t? It’s attractive to see someone so focused on where they’re going. But as the years went by, I noticed how much of our journey was about him. His likes. His goals. His needs. And in the middle of it all, my feelings and sacrifices seemed to fade into the background.

I’m not saying I’ve been perfect. Relationships are never one-sided. But I can’t deny that I’ve done my part. I’ve given, I’ve adjusted, I’ve loved. I thought love was supposed to be a partnership—two people holding each other up, balancing each other’s strengths and weaknesses. Yet sometimes it feels like I’ve been carrying most of the weight alone.

That’s where “chasing pavements” comes in. Because right now, I’m standing at that crossroad Adele sang about: Should I give up, or should I just keep chasing pavements, even if it leads nowhere?

Do I keep walking down this road, hoping that one day he’ll finally see how much I’ve given and start meeting me halfway? Or do I accept that maybe I’ve been running after something that’s not really meant to lead anywhere fulfilling?

Ten years is no joke. It’s history. It’s comfort. It’s memories stacked on top of each other like old photographs you can’t easily throw away. And yet, history isn’t enough if the present feels empty and the future looks like it will only repeat the same cycle.

Love shouldn’t feel like chasing pavements. It should feel like walking side by side on a road you both choose together. If one is always running ahead while the other struggles to catch up, sooner or later, the distance becomes too wide to bridge.

I don’t have the answer yet. Maybe some of you reading this have been in the same place—wondering if staying is strength or if letting go is the braver choice. Maybe love really is about holding on through storms, or maybe it’s about knowing when the storms will never pass.

What I do know is this: love should not make you feel invisible. Love should not make you question your worth. Love, at its core, is about us, not just me.

So as I approach this 10-year mark, I find myself asking again: Am I chasing pavements, or am I chasing love that’s real?

For now, I’ll sit with the question.