Let me ask you something: When was the last time you felt that ache? The one that creeps in when the texts go unanswered, the laughter feels forced, and the person who once lit up your world now feels like a stranger.
We’ve all been there. Love starts as a wildfire—passionate, all-consuming. Then, slowly, it dims. But here’s the raw truth: Love doesn’t die. We starve it.
The Lie We Believe: “They’re My Source of Happiness”
You’ve been sold a fairy tale: Find “the one,” and they’ll complete you. But here’s the cruel twist: No one can complete you. They can only complement you.
Some relationships are push-start—you need someone else to ignite your joy. Others are self-start—you fuel your own radiance. The problem? Most of us park our hearts on a hill, waiting for others to push us into motion.
But what happens when they stop pushing?
The Day I Realized I Was a Push-Start Machine
Years ago, I watched a couple unravel. They’d been inseparable—until life hit a bump. He lost his job. She grew distant. They blamed each other: “You changed.”
But here’s what I saw: They’d outsourced their joy.
The Transaction Trap
Love isn’t a transaction. It’s a collaboration.
- Extraction: “You make me happy.”
- Sharing: “I’m happy. Let’s multiply it.”
The moment you treat love like a vending machine—insert affection, receive dopamine—you’re doomed. Resentment brews. Fights erupt. And one day, you wake up wondering, *“Where did *we* go?”*
How to Become a Self-Start Lover
- Ditch the Fairy Tale
Stop waiting for Prince Charming or a damsel to “fix” you. You’re not broken. You’re human. - Fuel Your Own Joy
Wake up and ask: *“What lights me up *today?” Dance alone. Cook a storm. Write bad poetry. Fill your cup first. - Love Like a Sun, Not a Parasite
Suns don’t beg planets for warmth—they radiate. Be the source. Let your partner orbit your light, not fuel it.
The Unseen Truth: Love Is an Inside Job
Your heart isn’t a lock. Your partner isn’t a key. Love isn’t something you find. It’s something you generate.
When you stop demanding joy and start creating it, you’ll notice:
- Fights fade into curiosity.
- Silence feels like peace, not distance.
- Their flaws become quirks, not dealbreakers.
Your Invitation: Resurrect the Fire
Tonight, sit in silence. Place a hand on your chest. Feel that heartbeat? That’s your starter motor.
Now ask: *“What if I stopped waiting for love and started *being* it?”*
The answer isn’t in their eyes. Their touch. Their promises.
It’s in the way you choose to show up—for yourself, first.
P.S. The next time love feels shaky, whisper: “I am the flame. You’re the breeze. Together, we’ll set the world ablaze.”
Now go burn. Brightly. Together.
Why settle for a love that flickers? Become the wildfire.