DEPTH

Love: Has No Shallow End

I’ve been told I feel deeply.

For years I wondered if that was a compliment or a warning. As I’ve gotten older, I’ve realized it’s simply who I am.

I don’t know how to love halfway.

I don’t collect people. I don’t keep relationships alive out of convenience. I don’t say I love you because the moment feels right.

When I care about someone, they become part of my inner world. Their victories matter. Their suffering matters. Their peace matters.

It’s a beautiful way to live.

It’s also expensive.

Not everyone is looking for the same kind of connection I am. That’s neither right nor wrong. It’s simply different.

I’ve spent enough years trying to make myself easier to understand, quieter to accommodate, and smaller to fit into lives that only had room for pieces of me.

It never worked.

Love isn’t supposed to require becoming less of yourself.

Deep water isn’t dangerous because it’s dark.

It’s dangerous because it demands respect.

You can’t fake your way through it. You either learn to swim, or you turn back.

The same is true of intimacy.

Real love asks for honesty. Vulnerability. Forgiveness. Patience. Trust. Loyalty.

It asks us to be fully seen, and to stay anyway.

Not everyone wants that.

And that’s okay.

My life isn’t about convincing anyone to dive into my ocean.

It’s about becoming someone who can love without fear, receive love without clinging, and let go without bitterness when our paths diverge.

If you choose to walk beside me, you’ll find loyalty, laughter, compassion, curiosity, and a heart that never keeps score.

I no longer need everyone to understand the way I love.

I simply hope the people who are meant for my life recognize it when they see it.

Because there has never been a shallow end to my love.

There never will be.