The Evil Called Love

  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 ...

  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—...