Ceilings

Ceilings.

Some people don’t lack love.
They lack capacity.

There’s a ceiling to how much intimacy they can hold.
A ceiling to how much responsibility they can take.
A ceiling to how much truth they can tolerate.

When your capacity is higher, you feel it.

You feel the places where you’re holding more.
Seeing more.
Growing faster.

At first, you wait.

You tell yourself love is patient.
You tell yourself they’ll catch up.
You tell yourself they just need time.

But waiting for someone to rise to your level doesn’t create devotion.
It creates imbalance.

And imbalance slowly turns into resentment.

Not because you’re cruel.
Not because you’re demanding.

But because love requires reciprocity of capacity.

You cannot shrink your expansion to protect someone else’s ceiling.
And you cannot drag someone beyond what they are willing to become.

The hardest truth?

Sometimes love ends not because it wasn’t real —
but because one person kept rising
and the other chose comfort.

And love cannot breathe under a ceiling.