The Love of My Life & a Cry for Help

I’ve written a lot about love—but I don’t know if I’ve ever truly written about the love I want.

I was born into a broken family, never knowing what it feels like to have a mother’s or father’s love. But I remember the love of my grandmother. In my weakest moments, that love is what has kept me standing. She left too soon. She left me too soon. And maybe that’s why I’ve spent my life searching—searching for a love that fills the void she left behind.

I hope that one day, I’ll meet the person who shows me what love is supposed to be.

The one who loves deeply—not just in words, but in action. The one who values my presence as I value theirs. The one who gives strength and motivation, who shares in both joy and sorrow, who offers support without hesitation.

The one whose love is felt in both quiet moments and passionate ones, in the way they hold my hand, listen to my fears, and stand by me when the world feels heavy.

The one who knows that love is not just something to give, but something to receive—who understands the power of intimacy, of connection, of being fully present with one another.

The one who can sit with me over coffee or tea, talking about everything and nothing, laughing without effort. The one who can sit in comfortable silence beside each other for hours, without awkwardness.

The one I can gossip with at home. The one who hugs me after a long, exhausting day. The one who asks about my day—not out of obligation, but because they genuinely want to know. And I would do the same for them.

The one who encourages me to live a better life. The one who has empathy for others and compassion for the world. The one who lives with dignity, curiosity, and honesty.

The one who knows when to be humble, when to be firm, when to be gentle, and when to be strong.The one who knows how to cook—and enjoys my cooking, too.

The one who keeps pushing me forward, and lets me do the same for them.The one who loves.

Of course, we will fight. But we will also reconcile. The making up will be a reminder of why we chose each other. Our love will grow stronger.

The one who isn’t afraid to plan a future with me—not as a backup plan, not with an escape route, but with the belief that this is it.

That person may not exist. Bummer.

But at the very least, writing this has made one thing clear: I need to stop accepting less than what I deserve.

This has helped me see my current situation for what it is. It has made me realize that I am not happy. That I have been unhappy for a long time. That I have felt lonely and isolated. That I have ignored my own needs for far too long.

And now I ask myself: If today were my last day on earth, is this how I would want to live my life?

My inner voice screams, NO!

I need to live differently. I need to figure out a different way forward. I cannot keep torturing myself like this. I cannot stay trapped in this cycle. It is destroying me from the inside out.

Yes, I am scared.

Scared that my next step might be even worse.

Scared that I might have to start over.

Scared of failing.

But what terrifies me even more is the thought of staying exactly where I am.

This reminds me of my parents’ miserable relationship.

This reminds me of how my mother was destroyed.

This reminds me of the chaos that shattered my family.

This reminds me that I grew up in hell.

And worse, I realize that I am still living in hell.

And I need to get out.

I need help.

So God, please help me.