Journal Entry: When Love Feels Conditional

I sat across from her, wondering if she could ever see me without the filters of her own pain. Every word felt like it had to earn its way into existence — as if I had to prove that my feelings were valid, that my boundaries weren’t betrayals. The hardest part is knowing she believes she loves me, but the love is so conditional, so tangled with control, that it suffocates more than it soothes.

It hurts to admit that family can become a battlefield, not a refuge. And yet, deep down, I hear Spirit whisper: love that asks you to betray yourself is not love at all.