recipe for disaster

as a soul, i’ve stopped asking if love will find me, it feels like something that happens to other people i learned how to laugh at the right moments, how to keep conversations light, how to disappear just enough so no one notices i needed more they call it being strong, but it’s just practice— practice in needing less, in expecting nothing back i don’t think i’m hard to love, just easy to leave half-loved so i made peace with fragments— with temporary highs, with borrowed attention, with words that feel real only for a few hours maybe love isn’t meant to stay, maybe it’s just something you visit briefly before it reminds you why you built walls i don’t dream about forever anymore, just something quiet, something that doesn’t feel like i have to earn it but even that feels like asking too much so i wake up, wear the same mask, say the same jokes, play my part well and at the end of it all, when everything goes silent, i don’t wonder if i’ll be loved i wonder if i’ll ever feel it even if it’s there