No More Delusions

There was a time I became deeply fixated on someone. Not in a grounded, healthy kind of way. More like a spell I couldn’t shake off. Everything felt heightened, confusing, and irrational. My mind knew better, but my heart refused to listen.

I spent a lot of time trying to make sense of it. I excused things I shouldn’t have. I tried to empathize my way into feeling okay, telling myself he probably acted that way because of something going on in his life… or maybe something I did… or maybe it’s just who he is. I stretched my compassion past its breaking point, until it stopped being kindness and became self-abandonment.

I even made a pros and cons list. The cons ran like a grocery receipt. The pros? Mostly vague feelings and the fact that he had a nice face. And somehow, that still felt enough. At least, at the time.

Looking back, I wonder, was it love? Or just my ego trying to prove something? Was I in love, or was I just addicted to the emotional high of being chosen by someone who never really chose me?

I used to tell myself it was chemistry. That I’d never find this kind of connection again. But the truth is, it wasn’t chemistry. It was emotional confusion. And no matter how much I wanted it to mean something deeper, it never really did.

What I didn’t know then was that I was caught in cognitive dissonance—that mental tug-of-war when your actions and beliefs don’t align, and your brain fills in the gaps with excuses. I knew he wasn’t right for me. But I had already invested so much emotionally, I kept trying to make the story work.

It’s like luxury branding. When something feels out of reach, we automatically assign more value to it. We do the same with people. If someone is mysterious, inconsistent, and emotionally unavailable, it’s easy to turn that into a puzzle worth solving.

I grew up watching films and reading stories that romanticized this dynamic, the emotionally distant love interest who “softens” for the main character. So when someone was emotionally open with me, it felt boring. When someone was unclear, I became obsessed. That’s not love. That’s conditioning.

The truth is: if someone leaves you confused, anxious, or constantly second-guessing, that’s not your person. Maybe they’re not cruel. Maybe they’re just not emotionally mature enough to show up. And maybe it’s not your job to wait around while they figure it out.

In reality, not everyone who likes you genuinely wants to love you. Some people enjoy the comfort of knowing they can have your attention, even if they’re not prepared to fully show up. And when you’re still building your self-worth, that push-and-pull can easily be mistaken for love. You might think, if this feels so intense, it must be real.

I don’t look back in regret. I understand why I held on. But I also see now that I wasn’t choosing love, I was reacting to a pattern. I was mistaking intensity for meaning. And that kind of emotional guessing game can quietly reshape how you see yourself.

But here’s the hopeful part: it doesn’t last forever.

The more grounded you become in your self-worth, the easier it is to spot the difference between emotional unavailability and real connection. You stop projecting potential and start seeing people clearly. You stop chasing clarity and start expecting it. You stop craving the thrill of uncertainty and start choosing the calm of stability.

You realize love isn’t something you fight for, it’s something that flows when both people are ready.

And if you’re still in that confusing place, just remember:
If it brings more anxiety than peace, it’s not love.
If it feels like a puzzle, walk away.
The right person won’t make you feel small or unsure.
Real love doesn’t need decoding.

It shows up, clearly. Consistently. Kindly.