Sometimes, it feels like love is something that happens to other people. You see it in movies, in friends’ stories, in fleeting moments around you—but never in your own life. You begin to wonder if love is a language you were never taught, a door that never opens for you.
It’s not that you haven’t tried. You’ve hoped, you’ve given, you’ve waited. But each time, it slips away—too soon, too distant, too painful. And slowly, a quiet belief settles in: Maybe love just isn’t meant for me.
This feeling is isolating. It makes you question your worth, your place in the world. You start to build walls—not to keep others out, but to protect what’s left of you. You smile, you carry on, but deep down, there’s a longing that never quite fades.
But here’s the truth: love isn’t a prize for the perfect. It’s not reserved for the lucky few. It’s messy, unpredictable, and often arrives when you least expect it. Just because it hasn’t found you yet doesn’t mean it never will.
You are not unlovable. You are not forgotten. You are simply on a different timeline. And when love does come—for real, for good—it will feel like it was always meant to be.
