Twice as Hard

Love is tough—

it asks you to show up

even when you’re scared,

to stay open

when closing would hurt less.

Love risks rejection.

Misunderstanding.

The quiet fear

that giving your heart away

means losing parts of yourself.

But loneliness—

loneliness is twice as hard.

It doesn’t argue with you.

It doesn’t leave suddenly.

It just settles in,

fills the space where voices used to be,

teaches the walls your name.

Loneliness makes everything heavier.

Decisions.

Nights.

The sound of your own thoughts

when there’s no one to interrupt them.

At least love gives something back—

warmth,

connection,

the chance to be known,

even if it doesn’t last.

Loneliness gives nothing.

It only takes.

Time.

Energy.

The belief that you matter to someone

outside your own head.

So yes, love is difficult.

Messy.

Risky.

But loneliness is harder—

because there’s no one to hold your hand

through it,

no one to remind you

you’re still here,

still seen,

still worth choosing.