There's a kind of love that makes you second-guess your sanity.
Not because you're unstable, but because every time you ask,
“Are we okay?”
you're met with a sigh, a side-eye, or silence.

And somehow, that simple question
born from care, not control
becomes the thing you're made to feel guilty for.

So you adjust.
You water yourself down.
You hold back the words.
You tell yourself, “Maybe I am overthinking.”
You rehearse the timing of your concerns,
hoping next time, they'll be received better.
They're never received better.

Until one day, it hits you:
Love is not supposed to feel like trespassing.
You shouldn't feel the need to apologize
for needing to feel secure.
You shouldn't feel punished for caring too obviously.
Needing reassurance doesn't make you clingy,
it makes you human.

The problem was never that you needed too much.
The problem was that you asked someone
who offered too little.

And maybe that's what we all learn too late,
that love isn't proven in grand gestures or promises.
It's proven in the small moments,
when you say, “I'm scared,”
and they don't make you feel ashamed for it.

So here's the truth, simple and undramatic:
If you had to beg for the bare minimum,
you weren't loved
you were just convenient
until your honesty became inconvenient.