Pride is a spine—
Straight, deliberate, practiced.
It teaches you how to stand alone,
How to keep your name intact
Even when the wind insists otherwise.
Love asks you to bend.
Not in surrender,
But in offering—
Your throat exposed to the truth,
Your carefully folded dignity
Left on the chair like a coat
You forgot to pick up.
In love,
You want to be chosen
More than you want to be right.
You rehearse silence.
You forgive early.
You shrink the ache so it fits
Inside a smile.
Pride wants symmetry—
Equal effort, equal ground,
A ledger that balances at night.
Love is terrible at accounting.
It overpays.
It tips too much.
It stays even when
The music has already stopped.
You say you’ll walk away.
You don’t.
You say you deserve better.
You wait.
Because love teaches a dangerous math:
That being seen
Is worth being unarmored,
That losing face
Is sometimes the price
Of keeping a heart.
And maybe that’s why it’s hard—
Not because pride is weak,
But because love is a brave,
Reckless act
That asks you to choose connection
Over control.
Pride keeps you whole.
Love risks breaking you open.
And still—
You lean in.
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