The Evil Called Love

We see the phrase "you are seen, you are heard, you matter" everywhere in social media now. But do we really know how it feels? I do.  For so long, I've been a ghost. A flicker in the background, a fleeting image in the periphery of people's lives.  Nobody really looked, did they?  They saw a facade, a veneer of who I wanted to be, who they wanted me to be.  Smile, nod, laugh at the right moments—play the part, and then vanish.  I perfected the art of being pleasantly forgettable.  But he... oh, he sees me.  When I'm with him,  I can't just blend into the wallpaper. My camouflage fails.  He strips me of my invisibility with a mere glance, a simple question:  "How are you really doing?"  He'll ask, and I'll falter. Because he's not asking to fill the silence. He's asking because he genuinely wants to know. It's unsettling but liberating.  When I think something, he notices; he reacts.  He catches that fleeting shadow across my face

When I saw him, I knew he's different.  He doesn't just look at me; he sees me. Really sees me.  There's this intensity in his gaze that's almost intimidating but comforting at the same time.  It's as if he's peeling back layers, sifting through the façade I’ve so carefully built over the years, and finding the person underneath.  A person I didn't even know existed anymore.  When I talk to him...   His eyes don't glaze over.  He's not waiting for his turn to speak, but listening—every word, every pause, every breath.  He hears the things I don't say, the things I'm too afraid to voice.  He senses the hesitations, the fears, the unspoken dreams that I've buried deep.  And he reacts...  He asks questions, not out of mere curiosity but from a desire to understand—to know me better.  No one has ever made me feel this vulnerable, and yet so safe at the same time. I can’t be a liar around him; he'd call me out in an instant.  With him, I c

My man puts me on a pedestal, and I let him.  It's not about pride or arrogance; it's about knowing that he truly sees me. In his eyes, I am something special, something worth admiring.  I can't help but feel a warmth spread through me every time I see that look in his eyes. You know, it's easy to be skeptical in this world, to doubt the sincerity of someone's admiration. But with him, it's different.  It's in the little things, the way he listens when I speak, the way he surprises me with my favorite coffee on a rainy morning, the way he holds my hand as if it's the most precious thing in the world. It's in those moments that I know he genuinely admires me. And I get comfortable on that pedestal.  Not in a way that makes me complacent or takes his admiration for granted, but in a way that makes me want to be the best version of myself.  I want to live up to the image he sees in me, to be deserving of that admiration. Sometimes, I look at myself in t