I Thought It Was Love—Until It Wasn't


I used to think his jealousy meant he cared.


In the beginning, it felt flattering—how he always wanted to be around me, how he got protective when other guys looked my way, how he said he just “loved me too much.” He’d text constantly, get upset if I didn’t reply fast enough, and ask who I was with like it was just out of concern.


It didn’t feel toxic at first. It felt intense.


But then the compliments turned into criticisms.

“You’re really wearing that?”

“Why do you have to post so much?”

“Why are you always talking to them?”


He started making me feel guilty for things that used to make me happy—spending time with friends, dressing up, being noticed, being me. If I laughed at someone else’s joke, he’d get quiet. If I didn’t answer fast enough, I’d get accused of “entertaining someone else.” He needed to be the center of everything.


At first, I called it passion. I thought I could love him enough to calm his fears. But no amount of love could ever fill the void inside someone who only feels secure when you’re small, silent, and scared to lose them.


The truth? He wasn’t jealous because he loved me. He was jealous because he needed control.


It took me a long time to see it for what it was. I kept making excuses for him. I kept shrinking. But one day I looked at myself in the mirror and didn’t recognize who I was anymore. And that scared me more than losing him.


So I left.


And for the first time in a long time, I felt free. Not lonely—free.


If you’re with someone who makes you feel like love is a cage… that’s not love. It never was.


-Amity Rose -🌹


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