He Doesn't Change
There’s something you learn the hard way about love. Not the kind in movies, not the kind that fixes you — the kind that slowly breaks you, one ignored cry at a time. You learn that love isn’t proven by staying. It’s proven by changing. And when a man can sit there, watching you fall apart — watching you cry so hard your chest tightens — and he still walks away, or worse, he rolls over and goes to sleep like your pain is white noise he’s used to tuning out… that’s when you realize it: he never loved you the way you kept trying to love him. You beg for communication. He says you’re nagging. You ask for honesty. He calls you dramatic. He’ll say “I’m sorry” without meaning it, because he’s not sorry for the damage — he’s sorry you noticed. And he’ll sleep soundly, while you’re left wide awake wondering what version of yourself you have to kill next just to keep him comfortable. Here’s what no one tells you — when you cry long enough for someone who never shows up, your sadness eventually ...