No Script, Just Us.
RELATIONSHIPS
5 MIN READ
I often think about my first two serious relationships and how they were so damn similar in plot— same beginning, same middle, same end.
“I think I might love you. “
“I love you” to “I love you so much it hurts.”
“I love you enough to let you go.”
Copy, Paste.
They had brought me life at a time where life was no where to be found— and at the time I thought thats what love was supposed to look like— lucky for me, nobody pays me to think.
Because if they did, I would’ve spent every thought on figuring out how to keep someone close enough to need me just as much as I thought I needed them.
And maybe that’s what feels so different now. With her, I wasn’t looking to get life back. I wasn’t trying to prove my worth by being indispensable to someone else’s existence— continuously pouring from an empty cup.
For the first time, love showed up without an emergency attached to it. No ache that needed filling, no empty room to turn into a home. We met, and my soul just felt more whole than before.
She didn’t become the reason I woke up in the morning—she just made waking up better than it was before. And maybe that’s how I knew this was different; it wasn’t an all-consuming rescue or some perfect plot twist. It was like, “Hey, I’m good. You’re good. Let’s just…be good together.”
There’s a freedom to being in love this way. I don’t need her to complete me, and that allows me to appreciate her for exactly who she is. There’s no pressure to fit some script or live up to an idea of what we’re supposed to be for each other. She isn’t the meaning of my life. But loving her, in a simple, everyday way, brings more meaning to my life— and that is more than enough.
And maybe that’s the beauty of it: she’s my equal, not my savior. With her, there’s space to breathe, to laugh, to let go of the need for perfection. I can mess up. I can be messy. I can have days where I’m completely lost in my own world, and it doesn’t shake the foundation of us. She’s not here to validate me, but somehow, just by being herself, she does. There’s no crutch to lean on, no pedestal to live up to—just us, choosing each other over and over, and that feels like the most real thing I’ve ever known.
I think a love like this redefines intimacy. It’s not found in the grand gestures or the midnight promises, but in the soft presence of just knowing someone’s there, being themselves—letting you be you.
It’s the quiet moments, the kind that don’t need to be photographed or posted, that feed my soul. It’s the freedom to sit beside her in silence, feeling more seen and understood than I ever thought possible.
She didn’t arrive with a promise to fill my life or make it more meaningful, and yet that’s exactly what she does—by simply existing, being her own person, loving me in this calm, steady way.
There’s something powerful in a love that isn’t based on possession or control, but on the daily act of choosing, without expectation, without demand.
She is just…there.
And I am just…here.
Maybe that’s the ultimate meaning: we’re not bound by need or fear, but by choice. And in that choice, there’s a quiet, profound love that feels as close to what home is as I could ever imagine.
