They call it a relationship,
as if love were a contract -
signed, sealed, and destined
for breach.
Such a tidy little term
for something so untidy.
So tragically combustible.
A loop, really.
A carousel of connection, disconnection,
and the illusion of control.
People line up for it,
pay for it,
bleed for it.
And yet,
when you truly love - really love -
there are no lists.
No bullet points or Venn diagrams.
There’s only her,
or him,
or whoever made time stop
for just long enough
to make you forget
how it ever moved before.
Love is blind, yes -
but it also sees too much.
It illuminates everything
and still blinds you
with the brilliance of its own fire.
You don’t stay because it makes sense.
You stay because sense left the room
the moment their eyes met yours.
You stay because leaving
would hurt more than any wound
they could ever inflict.
Or maybe you stay
because pain and love
have long since blurred
into the same soft ache in your chest.
And when it ends -
ah, when it ends -
it’s not the goodbye that haunts you.
It’s the how.
How you thought too fast,
spoke too little,
asked the wrong questions
with answers you feared.
How you left when you should’ve waited,
or stayed when you should’ve run.
How you were so busy protecting your heart
you forgot to let it beat.
So no,
I don’t believe in relationships.
I believe in gravity,
in madness,
in that rare, ruinous spark
that defies language altogether.
And if you\'re lucky enough to find that -
God help you.
Because it will never let you be the same.
And you won\'t want to be.