The Evil Called Love

I have heard that line before. Not always exactly like that. Sometimes it is softer. More polite. Almost concerned. “Don’t you want someone?” “Maybe you’re being too picky.” “You’ll find someone… eventually.” Different words. Same message. There must be something wrong with you. And for a while, I believed it. I Thought Being Single Meant I Was Behind I would look around and notice it. Couples everywhere. Engagements. Weddings. Announcements that seemed to arrive like clockwork. And there I was… still single. Not dramatically lonely. Not miserable. Just… alone in a way that people seemed to think needed fixing. So I started questioning myself. Am I too difficult? Too independent? Too something? It is almost impressive how quickly other people’s opinions can turn into your inner voice. I Almost Lowered My Standards Just to “Fix It” There was a point where I considered it. Not consciously. Just small compromises. Entertaining people I already knew were not right for me. Trying to be more...

  There was a time I told myself waiting was love. Supporting him. Being patient. Believing in his “almost there.” It felt noble. Loyal. Like I was doing the right thing by not rushing something that was “meant to last.” So I waited. At First, It Felt Like We Were Building Something He had plans. I had faith. He was “figuring things out.” I was cheering him on. I said yes to helping where I could—emotionally, sometimes financially, always mentally. It felt like we were a team. Just… one that had not started winning yet. Then Time Started Moving… and Nothing Else Did Months turned into years in a way that did not feel dramatic enough to question right away. There was always a reason. After this exam. After he gets stable. After things calm down. And every time, I believed it. Not blindly. Just… hopefully. I Started Noticing Everyone Else Moving Forward It was subtle at first. Someone got engaged. Someone got married. Someone had a baby. I smiled. I showed up. I celebrated them. But ...

  There is a very specific kind of confusion that happens when someone you are dating hands you a gift and it feels slightly offensive. Not obviously offensive. Not enough to call out immediately. Just… confusing. I remember opening one like that. Nice packaging. Thoughtful, even. And inside? A product meant to “improve” something about me. Skin. Body. Something I had not even complained about. I smiled. Said thank you. And then later, alone, I had this quiet, uncomfortable thought: Was I supposed to need this? It Looked Like a Gift… But Felt Like Feedback That is the strange part. Because technically, it is a gift. But it does not land like one. It lands like a suggestion. A subtle correction. A “you’d be better if…” wrapped in good intentions. And I hate how quickly my brain tried to adjust. I caught myself wondering if maybe I should use it. If maybe he noticed something I did not. If maybe this was helpful. Which is wild, because five minutes before that, I was completely fin...

  I did not think wanting more would change my relationship this much. Not in a dramatic, overnight way. It was quieter than that. At first, it was just small shifts. I talked about new goals. I thought more about my future. I started taking myself a little more seriously. And somehow… that did not land well. The Pushback Didn’t Look Like Pushback It came disguised. Little jokes about me “changing.” Comments about how I was “doing too much.” Eye rolls when I talked about plans that used to excite me. Nothing big enough to call out. Just enough to make me pause. And I did what I always do when something feels off: I questioned myself. Am I being too much? Am I forgetting what we already have? Am I the one making this harder than it needs to be? I Almost Shrunk Myself to Keep the Peace There was a moment where I seriously considered slowing down. Not because I stopped wanting more… but because I did not want to lose us. It is a strange place to be in—feeling like your growth is someh...

  I reconnected with someone from my childhood not too long ago. It felt… rare. Familiar in a way that made everything easier. Like we skipped the awkward parts and went straight into comfort. Our first date? Effortless. We talked for hours. Laughed without trying. It felt natural in that dangerous way that makes you think, oh, this could be something. And then a few days later, my phone lit up. Not with a “when can I see you again,” but with a message that felt like a preemptive shutdown. He told me he didn’t want a relationship. He said he wasn’t emotionally available. Just like that. The Whiplash Was Real It was not the rejection that got me. It was the speed of it. How do you go from connection to closing the door that fast? It made me pause and think: Did I imagine that whole thing? Old me would have taken that question and run with it. I would have replayed every moment. Analyzed every word. Tried to find the exact second where I “lost” him. Because that is what I used to do—...

  I have been in love enough times to know that love is not always soft. It is not always kind. And sometimes, it leaves without explaining itself. Sometimes it is a text that changes everything. Sometimes it is silence where there used to be effort. Sometimes it is watching someone move on while you are still holding onto what you thought you both had. And when it happened to me, I did what I always do when something hurts too much. I tried to outrun it. I Kept Busy… and Still Felt Empty I told myself I was “moving on.” But what I was really doing was distracting myself with impressive commitment. I considered rebounds I knew would end badly. I changed small things about myself like that would somehow reset my life. I checked their social media like I was collecting evidence for a case that no one asked me to solve. I stayed busy. Constantly. And somehow, I still felt stuck. I Thought Self-Love Meant “Treat Yourself” So I tried that too. I spent money I did not need to spend....

I used to think constant bickering meant passion. Like, if we argued a lot, it meant we cared. That we were “real.” Not one of those suspiciously calm couples who look like they schedule their emotions in advance. But then there were days when I would sit there mid-argument and think, Why does this feel less like love and more like… friction? So I had to ask myself the uncomfortable question: Is this just how relationships grow… or is this how they slowly break? 1. We Stopped Being Cute… and Started Being Real At the beginning, everything felt easy. We laughed more. We filtered more. We were, frankly, on our best behavior like two people trying to pass a personality test. Then something shifted. We got comfortable. Which sounds nice, until “comfortable” turns into “I will now comment on everything you do, including how you breathe.” The deep talks were still there, but now they came with side notes. Corrections. Small irritations. At first, I thought something was wrong. But the truth ...