Hey there,
Before I say anything else, a little credit where it’s due — this one began with a conversation. One of those where a friend says something that lingers. This post wouldn’t exist without her — her words, her honesty, her ability to hold up a mirror without making it hurt.
So, a friend once told me I was being selfish.
And not in a dramatic, scream-across-the-room kind of way. She just said it quietly, calmly, like she’d thought about it for a while and had finally made peace with it.
“You lied,” she said. “Because you didn’t want to lose me.”
And yeah, I did. Not a huge, universe-shaking lie. Just the kind you tell when the truth feels too risky. The kind where you convince yourself you’re doing the right thing, when in reality, you’re just protecting your own heart.
And that got me thinking — what if all love is selfish?
I mean, seriously. Why do we fall in love with someone? Because they make us happy. They get our weird jokes. They look at us like we matter. They make existing a little easier, and suddenly, being around them becomes the best part of our day.
So we try to keep them close. We call, we care, we show up. We do all these things not just to make them feel loved, but because it feels good to us when we make them smile.
It’s like a trade deal, signed in stolen glances and long texts at 2 a.m.
You give love.
You get love back.
Everyone wins.
Except, sometimes, they don’t.
Because here’s the catch: we’re all just trying to hold onto the people who make our world feel less lonely. And in that process, we mess up. We overthink, we overgive, we overstay.
We say things we don’t fully mean just to keep the moment going.
We avoid certain truths because we’re scared they’ll change everything.
We hold on a little too tightly, even when the other person is quietly slipping away.
That’s love too. The flawed, frightened, very human kind.
And you know what? I think the only time love becomes truly selfless…
is when it stops feeling good.
When the person you care about starts hurting you — not with fists or cruel words, but with absence. With silence. With half-hearted replies and emotional exits disguised as “I’ve just been busy.”
And you still try.
You sit with the hurt.
You tell yourself it’s just a phase.
You find reasons to stay even when it’s clear they’ve already left.
That’s not romantic. That’s not wise. But maybe it’s the purest version of love — when there’s nothing left to gain, and you still choose to give.
So yeah, maybe love is selfish.
Maybe we love people for what they bring out in us.
Maybe we lie to hold on.
Maybe we stay too long.
Maybe we ask for more than they can give.
But we do it because something about them made the world better — and we’re just trying not to lose that feeling.
And maybe… just maybe… that’s not such a terrible reason after all.
With love (and a little overthinking, as always),
Atreidus
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