Love is a waterlogged dungeon—airless, lightless, with just enough room to jut your head up for one desperate, strangled breath. It’s a relentless pressure, a submersion that won’t let you resurface, that holds you as if you’re chained to the ocean floor. It crushes you under the weight of its expectations. In this moment, I vow to never fall in love. If love means being disposable, I want no part of it.
