Life and Everything In Between

By DMM

Some people don’t come into your life to love you…

they come thirsty for the love you know how to give.

And the tender-hearted ones… we stay.

Even when our spirit whispers, “They cannot love you back.”

We stay, praying our love can teach them how to feel.

But toxic love doesn’t slam its way into your life.

It tiptoes in soft. Sweet. Careful.

No one runs into a burning house —

the flames always start as a warm light.

It begins with charm that melts your guard,

effort that makes you believe,

consistency that feels like safety.

And then, slowly… the shift.

The sweetness thins.

The warmth cools.

The intentions blur.

Criticism dressed as concern.

Blame passed off as misunderstanding.

Control hidden behind “I care.”

It’s the small things first,

the tiny bends in your backbone

to keep the peace.

Little edits to your personality

because they preferred a softer version of you.

And piece by piece, your reflection fades —

until one morning you look in the mirror

and meet a stranger wearing your skin.

But why do we stay?

Hope.

The softest, deadliest thing.

Maybe they’ll change.

Maybe it’s you.

Maybe more love will be the cure.

But babe, love was never meant to feel

like begging for the basics.

And the signs?

They were humming all along:

apologies that led back to the same wound,

your peace slipping away one message at a time,

your voice shrinking whenever they entered the room,

your needs whispering, “Maybe next time…”

your worth bending under their weight.

This is not love.

This is survival dressed as devotion.

And here is the truth, held with gentle hands:

You cannot fix someone

who finds comfort in your breakage.

You cannot pour enough love

into someone who was never ready to hold it.

Leaving is not a failure, my love.

It is a return —

a soft homecoming to yourself.

So how do you walk away softly?

You stop explaining the pain.

You name the wound without fear.

You rebuild the borders of your heart.

You choose yourself boldly, loudly,

like your soul has been waiting for you.

And you let go —

not for closure,

but for peace.

Last but not least:

You deserve a love that doesn’t dim you.

A love that doesn’t bruise your spirit.

A love that holds your heart

as carefully as you have held others.

Sometimes the most powerful thing you’ll ever do

is walk away gently…

and finally feel the weight lift.