
I used to think love had to feel intense.
Like something always happening.
Always exciting.
Always a little unstable.
The kind of love where your mood depends on them.
Where you check your phone a little too often.
Where silence feels like distance.
I thought that was love.
But now I guess I was wrong.
The love that drains you
There’s a kind of love that feels strong,
But leaves you tired.
Where you overthink every message.
Where you question where you stand.
Where you feel like you’re always trying to maintain something.
It’s emotional.
It’s consuming.
But it’s not peaceful.
And slowly, you start losing parts of yourself in it.
The shift no one talks about
At some point, something changes.
You stop wanting the highs.
Because you’ve experienced the lows that come with them.
You stop chasing excitement.
Because you’ve felt the anxiety behind it.
And you start craving something quieter.
The love I want now
I don’t want love that feels like a rollercoaster.
I want love that feels like calm.
The kind where:
- you don’t question your place
- you don’t overanalyze silence
- you don’t feel like you have to prove anything
Just presence.
Just steadiness.
The part I didn’t understand before
I used to think calm love was boring.
Now I think it’s rare.
Because it requires maturity.
Consistency.
Emotional safety.
And not everyone knows how to offer that.
A quiet truth
Love should not make you anxious.
It should not make you feel like you’re too much or not enough.
It should not make you doubt your worth.
Love should feel like something you can rest in.
Not something you have to constantly manage.
What I’m learning
I’m not looking for intensity anymore.
I’m looking for stability.
Not something that excites me for a moment.
But something that stays.
And maybe that’s the kind of love
that actually lasts.


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