You know what’s wild? Being romantically involved with someone today feels like running a marathon with a broken ankle, a maxed-out credit card, and a ghost from your past whispering in your ear. Mentally, we’re fried. Half of us are still patching up wounds that never healed right. Physically, we’re exhausted, dragging bodies that have been stretched too thin by work, by hustle, by survival. Emotionally? Forget it. We’re carrying baggage so heavy it should come with a baggage fee, and yet we expect someone else to help us lift it when they can barely carry their own.
Financially, we’re broke. Love doesn’t just cost time and energy anymore. It costs rent, therapy, dinner dates we can’t afford, and the illusion that we’re thriving when really we’re just trying not to drown. Spiritually, we’re scattered. We don’t even share the same wavelength anymore. We’re all tuned into different frequencies, chasing different versions of healing, of success, of peace.
And that’s the cruel joke: we want intimacy, but we don’t have the capacity. We crave connection, but we’re too busy stitching ourselves back together. We want someone to see us, but we’re terrified of being seen. So we keep colliding, messy, beautiful collisions, hoping that maybe, just maybe, someone will love us enough to carry the chaos. But the truth? Most of us can’t even carry ourselves.
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