#romanticmelancholy

︶︶︶꒦꒷︶︶︶  ୨♡୧  ︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶

︶︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶ ୨♡୧ ︶︶︶ ⊹ ︶︶︶︶

Quando você me olha desse jeito, o que exatamente espera que eu faça ou sinta?

Eu te vi ontem. E meu deus como dói não poder te levar pra casa. Teu abraço me joga de volta a um estado de descontrole, quase uma dependência química. É quase insuportável. E, como a boa masoquista que sou, me torturo a tesão que existe na tensão da tua presença.

Quando você me olha assim, eu me sinto como uma presa atraída pelo próprio predador... Indefesa, insana, apaixonada.

É uma vertigem.

Porque meu corpo inteiro reage antes que eu possa pensar. Minha respiração muda, minhas pupilas se dilatam, e o mundo parece se estreitar até caber apenas no espaço entre os teus olhos e os meus.

Então eu sigo assim: me torturando e me saciando com as possibilidades platônicas de um romance, de um amor, de uma paixão, de um caso, de um flerte, qualquer coisa que nunca vou viver com você.

E mesmo sabendo disso, jogo fora todas as chaves que poderiam me libertar das algemas dessa ilusão.

There is a quiet ache that only women who love too deeply know.

That feeling of looking at someone and thinking, you’re the reason my heart feels at home… and the reason it feels like it’s falling apart.

It’s the contradiction of wanting to rest in the arms of a man who also keeps you awake at night with endless questions. The one you call your peace, while secretly praying he won’t also be your undoing.

Because isn’t it true? The person you run to for comfort should not also be the one who creates the chaos you need comfort from.

And yet, how many of us stay?

How many of us tell ourselves this is love the highs, the lows, the butterflies that turn into knots in your stomach. The late-night texts that feel like oxygen, followed by the silences that suffocate you.

We confuse intensity with intimacy. We call instability passion. We make excuses for the way our hearts are breaking because we’re addicted to the rare moments he puts the pieces back together.

But love, real love, isn’t meant to be a pendulum that swings between heaven and hell.

It should feel steady. It should feel safe.

It should feel like home, not like a battlefield.

And still… I know the pull. I know the way your chest tightens when you think of letting go. Because it’s not just him you’d be leaving behind, it’s the dream. The fantasy you built around who he could be. The hope that maybe next time, maybe tomorrow, maybe someday he will finally show up as the man you’ve always needed.

But here is the truth your heart already whispers in the dark:

If he is both your peace and your problem, he will never truly be your peace.

You cannot build a safe haven on shaky ground.

I’ve seen it, felt it, lived it. The duality of being madly in love with someone who was also quietly destroying me. The laughter that was real, yes but it was always followed by apologies, tears, and questions I should never have had to ask.

Do you love me? Am I enough?

Why do I feel so lonely when I’m lying right beside you?

These are not the questions that bloom in a love that heals.

They are the questions of a heart trying to make sense of crumbs and calling it a feast.

And I wonder, darling, how many times have you been told to “just hold on” or “every relationship has problems”?

Yes, relationships are work but the work should be building together, not constantly stitching yourself back together after he tears you apart.

Real love will not require you to abandon yourself just to keep him.

It will not ask you to make peace with constant hurt in the name of loyalty. It will not confuse you into thinking that pain is proof of passion.

The right love feels like a soft exhale. Like coming home after a long day and finally letting your shoulders drop. Like being seen in all your chaos and still being held gently.

That is the love you deserve.

So why do we stay with men who are both our peace and our problem?

Because somewhere deep inside, we believe that if we can fix them, we’ll finally be worthy.

Because we think loving harder will make him love us better.

Because we mistake the intensity of emotional rollercoasters for depth, when really, it’s just instability dressed in pretty words.

But here’s a secret I wish someone had whispered to me when I was breaking:

Your worth is not measured by how much pain you can endure for a man.

You are not here to prove your strength by surviving his storms.

You are here to bloom in a love that doesn’t require constant survival.

And if no one has told you yet it is okay to walk away from the man who makes you question your own softness. It is okay to stop trying to turn your heartbreak into a home. It is okay to demand a love that feels like peace, only peace.

Because real love won’t leave you guessing. It won’t make you feel like you’re too much or not enough. It won’t be hot one day and cold the next.

It will stay. It will choose you. It will be peace, through and through.

I know letting go feels like betrayal. Like closing a chapter you never wanted to end. But sometimes, the bravest thing you can do is admit that the story you’re in is not the story you were meant for.

And somewhere out there, someone is aching to love you in the way you always dreamed of not as both your comfort and your chaos, but as your partner, your anchor, your safe place.

The kind of love where your soul no longer feels like it’s bleeding just to belong.

And maybe, just maybe, that love begins the moment you choose yourself.

Because you should never have to heal from the very person who was supposed to protect your heart.

Soft closing thought: You were never meant to find safety in the same place you found your wounds.

If these words touched you, let them travel reblog, share, or follow so another woman who needs this reminder tonight can find it too.