They say pure love is sacrificial.
It is when you put them before you, above you. You compromise. You soften. You shrink. You dim. You give without expectations. You think if you could just offer a bigger piece of yourself, maybe this time they will see you.
But is it really pure if you are silently hoping inside that they acknowledge what you have done for them? Isn’t this transactional? If they never see you, appreciate you or even acknowledge your existence would you still love them the same way?
You call it love. I call it self-erasure.
Love is when you make space for the parts you don’t even understand, parts that are buried, parts that are weak and ugly. It’s in the way you choose someone without ever hoping to receive anything in return whether it’s their approval, affection or care. You can want them, even ache for them but you do not dissolve into them. You stand whole. It’s the pure act of choosing, not needing. It doesn’t require performance.
And if at the end I stand alone, I will stand whole. I will not apologize for living as myself. I honored every part of me whether anyone was ready to receive it or not. Although imperfect, I will die knowing I lived a life true to myself. And that… is enough.
