He says he loves me, but his love has rules. I am loved when I'm calm. When I'm smiling. When I'm quiet. When I make myself smaller so his life stays easy. I am loved when I don't need anything. But the moment I'm tired, the moment I'm hurting, the moment I need reassurance instead of offering it-his patience runs out. He doesn't ask what's breaking inside me. He gets frustrated that I'm breaking at all. When I fall apart, he doesn't hold me. He teaches me that my pain is a problem. That my feelings are an inconvenience. So Ilearn to cry alone. To heal quietly. To pretend I'm okay just to keep the peace. And that's when it hits me-this doesn't feel like love. It feels like a performance. Like I have to be strong, silent, and easy just to be chosen. And no one should have to earn love by hiding their pain.