Held, Then Dropped.
I relate to Love Quinn from YOU a lot. Well, not the murderous part, of course — but how, in the beginning, someone can make you feel so safe, so understood. They promise to embrace every part of you ; the good, the bad, the broken and make you believe they will love you through it all, unconditionally. They say the right things, do the right things, and for a moment, it feels like maybe this time, someone truly sees you.
But then, when the cracks begin to show, when you let them in on your worst days, they hesitate. They falter. They start pulling away. Suddenly, the parts of you they said they'd love become the parts they can’t handle. Instead of staying, instead of standing beside you when you need them most, they retreat. Sometimes, they even make it worse; turn your hurt into something unbearable. They leave you drowning in your own chaos, making you feel crazy for even having those feelings.
And after all of it, after everything you gave, every moment you chose to stay, to understand, to love them even when it hurt you, they still walk away. They leave you alone, questioning everything: Was it all for nothing? This kind of loneliness feels different. It doesn’t just ache; it lingers. It’s the weight of unmet expectations, of a connection you thought would last unraveling before your eyes. It’s the sting of realising that no matter how much you gave, it was never enough to make them stay.
It’s almost easier to have no one at all. At least then, you’re not expecting someone to show up. At least then, you’re not left wondering why you weren’t enough.
And now, I feel trapped in this cycle of believing no one will ever love me the way I love them. No one will ever stand by me, see me, hold me in the way I crave. I give everything, everythingand yet, it’s never enough. And no matter how much it breaks me, I can’t stop being the person who stays. I can’t stop wanting to fix things, to take on the pain of others, to make it better for them. Maybe it’s because I want to feel like I’ve done something good. Maybe it’s because I wish someone would do the same for me.
Or maybe it’s because I still have hope; hope that someday, someone will love me the way I love them. But that hope… it’s starting to hurt more than it heals.