My past didn’t destroy my faith in love—it refined it. I have walked through heartbreak, through disappointment, through the kind of love that wasn’t meant to last. But instead of making me bitter, it made me wiser. It taught me what I truly need, what I will no longer accept, and, most importantly, what I deserve.

There was a time when I believed love meant giving endlessly, even when I received little in return. I mistook effort for affection and overlooked the moments when I felt unseen, unheard, and unappreciated. I held on too long, thinking that love was about endurance rather than mutual care. When it ended, I thought I had lost love altogether. But now, I see the truth—I didn’t lose love; I lost an illusion of it.

Now, I no longer seek just anyone to fill a void or quiet my loneliness. I seek someone who truly sees me—not just my beauty, my kindness, or my strength, but my fears, my dreams, and my scars. Someone who doesn’t ask me to shrink or dim my light, but instead, encourages me to shine even brighter.

Love, to me, is no longer about finding someone to complete me—I am already whole. It is about finding someone who adds to the life I have built, someone who chooses me every day, just as I choose them. And until I find that, I am happy waiting, because I know my heart deserves nothing less.