The Cost of Love
What even is love?
It's a heavy question and every time I try to define it, the words fall short.
Because the truth is — I don't really know.
But I can tell you what it feels like. And what it costs.
For me, it's a gamble... It's a surrender.
It's like you are giving someone the power to hurt you, and hope they choose not to. It's not always 50/50. Sometimes you care more, wait longer, try harder - and that imbalance stings. It's weird, because love demands you to be soft in a world that teaches you to guard yourself. And when you're the one who feels more, it's easy to start losing pieces of your pride, little by little.
Love is beautiful in a way, but it's always a gamble. A quiet risk you take, knowing very well it might leave you emptier than before. And yet… you do it anyway.
Love today feels like a fucking circus
We've built a dictionary of all the dysfunctions: Situationships. Breadcrumbing. Benching. Cushioning. Orbiting and it keeps on going.
There's a weird term for every vague connection and every soft rejection.
Love has become a placeholder!
We are not truly lookig for love anymore. We are just craving for attention, validation, a soft place to land until something "better" comes along. Someone to be there — just not too much.
We half-commit.
We text at midnight and disappear by morning.
We keep people just close enough not to lose them, but far enough not to owe them anything.
We say things like:
- Don't catch feelings.
- Let's not label this.
- We're just vibing.
And when someone actually catches feelings?
We pull out the shield:
- I always maintained my boundaries.
- I never promised anything.
- You misread it.
But let's be honest: A lot of these so-called "boundaries" we keep talking about, is just a safe way to dodge responsibilities. It's just an exit plan.
A way to keep the comfort without the commitment. A way to not feel guilty while still getting the good parts of someone. A way to avoid being the bad guy — even while you're slowly letting someone fall.
That's avoidance wearing a mask.
That's using someone's emotions for comfort while keeping your options open.
People Want Love — But Only When They're Done Playing
This is the pattern.
People chase chaos. They mistake drama for chemistry. They call emotional unavailability "mystery." They mistake kindness for weakness and arrogance for confidence.
They date recklessly — fuck around, fall apart, start over — and when they are tired and it's finally time to settle down, suddenly, the same "nice guys" look different. The ones who didn't play any games. The ones who always showed up. The ones who have always been intentional. The ones who have always chosen their values over their desires. The ones they once said were "too available."
But here's the bitter truth, people choose these "nice" ones not out of love. They choose them because chaos finally got exhausting.
No One Wants to Be Chosen Last
We all want to feel like a choice — not an option. Not a placeholder. Not someone you "keep around" until the timing feels right.
Here's what we all wish, deep down:
Pick me first. Not when you're tired of games. Not when you're done experimenting. Not when it's convenient.
Because being someone's first choice isn't about ego. It's about being seen. It's about being respected. It's about not having to constantly earn a love you've already been giving.
Love Isn't About Winning
No one should have to convince someone to stay.
Or constantly wonder where they stand.
Or beg for clarity in a connection that should have been honest from the start.
It shouldn't be this hard.
And yet, we've made it hard — by refusing to show up all the way.
We confuse "chill" with detached.
We call softness weakness.
We think not caring means we have the upper hand.
We treat love like a game of who cracks first.
But love isn't something you win.
It's something you give.
Freely, fully, knowing you might not get it back.
You Can Love and Still Walk Away
Here's the hardest part: You can love someone with everything you've got — and still have to let them go.
Not because the love was fake. But because it wasn't received right. Or it wasn't respected. Or it started hurting more than it healed.
Love isn't always enough. It should be. But it isn't.
And you don't get a medal for holding on to something that's already let go of you.
What I Still Believe
Even after all this rambling — I still believe in it.
The kind where:
- Effort feels natural.
- Someone sees your effort and doesn't flinch.
- Showing up isn't scary.
- Your softness isn't misunderstood.
- You don't have to shrink yourself to be enough.
- You never have to wonder where you stand.
Just Something to Think About
If you're out there loving deeply — and it's not being returned —
Don't shut down your emotions. Don't go cold. Don't repeat the same things you experienced.
Love is still worth it.
But it has to start with you.
You deserve more than a maybe.
More than a temporary role in someone's in-between phase.
Don't let the wrong kind of love convince you that your softness is a flaw. It isn't.
It's the most human thing about you. Just don't lose yourself in the process.