More Than Chemistry — Fire with Purpose

 I gave without asking the cost.
My strength—freely poured. My spirit—drained.
Back then, I didn’t see my value.
I moved with fire—untamed, unclaimed.
Fearless? Yes. Reckless? Maybe.
But time has taught me the weight of peace… and the price of staying.

I’m still in something.
Not because it fills me—but because I once promised I wouldn’t walk away.
Because I confuse loyalty with love.
Because leaving feels like failure, and staying feels like disappearing.

He’s trying. In the only way he knows how.
Frantic to reach me, to fix what he can’t name.
But we’re on different emotional frequencies—
and I’m tired of translating my heart just to be heard.

Sometimes I wonder—
Will I die waiting to be loved in a language he’ll never speak?
Will I stay in this quiet ache because I’m too stubborn to give up
or too loyal to admit I already have?

Still, I rise.
Still, I love.
Still, I dream—though my feet are heavy and my spirit worn.

I’m working two jobs.
Holding it all together. Barely.
Some days, I am a woman surviving.
Other days, I am a woman remembering that survival isn’t living.

I catch glimpses of something else—
Like a flower pressed against the glass of a world I can feel, but can’t touch.
I don’t need to be saved.
But maybe I do need to be seen.
And maybe someone—just one man—might reach across that glass and say:
You don’t have to keep bleeding to prove you're loyal.
You don’t have to shrink to keep your promise.

Because I still believe in connection.
In resonance. In a love that doesn’t just try—but knows.
Someone whose presence doesn’t drain—but ignites.
A partner who sees both my light and my shadow—and chooses all of me.

I’m not here to play.
I’m here for truth.
To rise—if not out, then up—
With someone who understands that sometimes…
loyalty is just another word for longing.