Never Enough

I thought intense love only existed in books.

Then I spent years chasing it.

What started as teenage obsession became a story of almosts, misunderstandings, jealousy, timing, and the kind of emotional addiction that makes chaos feel like love.

This is not a love story.
At least not in the way I wanted it to be.

It's the story of every version of me that existed before I learned the difference between being chosen and being consumed.

Before I learned that peace isn't the absence of passion.

And before I understood that the hardest person to choose was myself.