The Soulless Dance Of Entanglement

Is There Any Hope Left?

Love Isn’t Dying. People Just Don’t Know How To Tell the Truth Anymore.

I’ve spent most of my life moving through relationships the way a person walks through a dimly lit room: cautiously, hoping not to bump into something that hurts. For years, I thought love was supposed to be difficult, that sacrifice was the price of admission, and that giving more than I received was simply part of my nature. Maybe it’s the Pisces in me. Maybe it’s the way I was raised. Or maybe it’s the consequence of loving deeply in a world that has forgotten what depth feels like.

Whatever the reason, clarity has a way of arriving like a cold slap. Quiet. Sudden. Undeniable.

The unabridged truth is this: I am exhausted from giving love to people who only know how to offer fragments. I am done receiving emotional leftovers as if they are a meal. I am done decoding contradictions disguised as innocence, and omissions disguised as kindness.

Somewhere between heartbreak, introspection, and hard-earned maturity, a single realization crystallized: most of the relationships I’ve known were never actually safe.

Not physically unsafe. Emotionally unsafe. The kind of unsafe that eats away at you slowly, quietly, methodically, until you’re no longer able to recognize yourself in the mirror.

We romanticize love. We fantasize about intimacy, but the thing we speak about the least is the one thing that determines whether a relationship survives at all: Emotional safety.

What Emotional Safety Actually Means

People talk about safety as if it’s theoretical. It isn’t. It’s visceral.

Safety means I can tell you the truth without bracing for punishment. Safety means my flaws are human, not ammunition. Safety means I can disagree with you without the relationship turning into a battlefield. Safety means being authentic doesn’t feel dangerous.

When there is no safety, the relationship mutates into survival mode.

You start measuring your words. You start burying your needs. You start hiding your imperfections like contraband. You start performing instead of connecting.

It doesn’t happen all at once. It’s slow. It’s subtle. You stop sharing a little here, you reduce your honesty a little there, you choose silence because experience has taught you it’s safer than truth.

The tragedy is that this process feels normal when you’re in it.

Only distance reveals just how toxic it really was.

A relationship without safety cannot sustain love, no matter how beautiful the beginning was. Safety is not optional; safety is the relationship. It is the foundation upon which connection stands, intimacy grows, and trust survives.

Without it, everything rots behind a smiling front.

When Intimacy Dies, Everything Dies

Intimacy is another casualty we pretend not to see.

People reduce intimacy to sex, and then wonder why their relationships feel hollow. Intimacy is pursuit. Presence. The decision to stay connected even when life becomes inconvenient or exhausting. It is the way two people say without speaking: I still choose you.

We all enter relationships with the same expectation: that intimacy will remain alive. That physical connection will remain mutual. That desire will be nurtured, not rationed.

Sadly, that’s not how most relationships unfold.

For many couples, intimacy becomes rare. Mechanical. Transactional, or worst of all, weaponized. Used to punish. Used to negotiate. Used to reward. Used to control.

People underestimate the damage this does.

It's important to note that when intimacy fades, trust erodes. When trust erodes, resentment grows. When resentment grows, partners become strangers sleeping in the same bed.

To say “I’m tired” or “I’m not in the mood” isn’t a crime, but when disconnection becomes habitual, when the bond is left unattended, when pursuit dies… something essential collapses.

The relationship doesn’t explode. It withers.

Sadly, once withering begins, it rarely reverses.

Intimacy is not about sex. It is about connection, awareness and intentionality. It is a loud declaration of commitment:

“I see you. I desire you. I choose you.”

When that stops, the relationship begins its quiet funeral.

A World That No Longer Values Love

The uncomfortable truth is that we are living in a generation that has stopped valuing relationships. Everything is transactional. Everything is conditional. Everything is temporary.

People treat partners like smartphone upgrades: replaceable, interchangeable, upgradeable. Commitment feels old-fashioned. Loyalty feels inconvenient. Transparency feels dangerous and staying when things get hard feels out of style.

Love has become a performance instead of a practice.

We curate affection for social media. We avoid conflict by suppressing reality. We mistake attention for intimacy. We confuse consistency with clinginess.

The modern dating landscape is a minefield of emotional shortcuts and half-truths. The rise of convenience has killed the discipline of connection.

And here’s where the conversation becomes even more uncomfortable:

The Gendered Dishonesty Nobody Wants to Talk About

Men have been labeled the villains of relationships for decades: cheaters, liars, emotionally unavailable and there are men who earn those labels.

We however have to remember that there’s another truth that rarely gets acknowledged: many women practice dishonesty too, just in a different form.

Not loud lies. Quiet omissions.

Not blatant deception. Curated truths.

Not fabrications. Selective disclosures.

Women share what makes them look good. They hide what complicates the narrative.They reveal emotions strategically.They withhold details they deem “irrelevant” but that would change everything if spoken aloud.

And society accepts this imbalance because men are expected to be transparent while women are praised for being “private.”

The result is a subtle but powerful erosion: men walk around emotionally exposed, while women walk around emotionally edited.

Both sides lose. Both sides hurt. Both sides trust less.

In truth, only one side gets blamed.

This dynamic breeds resentment, withdrawal, and emotional starvation. It is one of the quiet catalysts driving people away from relationships entirely.

My Conclusion After Watching It All Fall Apart

I used to think I was too sensitive. Too emotional. Too idealistic. Now I realize I was simply too honest in a world that doesn’t reward honesty.

After enough disappointments, a pattern appears: People don’t actually want love. They want convenience, attention, validation, entertainment, or security, but not love. Love requires truth. Love requires accountability. Love requires pursuit. Love requires emotional courage.

Most people don’t have the stomach for that kind of vulnerability.

So here I stand, brutally awake.

I no longer romanticize effort where effort isn’t mutual. I no longer beg for intimacy that should be natural. I no longer shrink myself to protect fragile egos. I no longer accept dishonesty disguised as privacy. I no longer participate in relationships that require self-betrayal to survive.

What I Want Now

What I want is simple, but not common.

Give me a relationship where honesty is not a threat. Give me safety without begging for it. Give me intimacy that doesn’t die in silence. Give me a partner who chooses pursuit, not complacency. Give me consistency instead of excuses. Give me truth unedited. Give me connection that grows. Give me love that doesn’t require self-erasure.

And if the modern world can’t offer that?

Then I would rather walk alone than be loved dishonestly.

Some people fear solitude. For me, solitude feels cleaner than hypocrisy.

Love isn’t dying. People just don’t know how to tell the truth anymore.

I have been dumped for being too intense. I have been kicked to the curb for fear that I would cheat. I have been benched for the stories someone else planted. I have the scars, hell, I went into rleationships thinking the other person would have my six as I had theirs, but alas, how deluded I was. I defended people and yet when dirt was thrown on my name, it was easy to look the other way without the slightest defence or chastisement. So putting myself out for folk who I thought loved me got me wrecked all the time. So why would I still want to pursue love? Maybe the Pisces in me is what still implores me to belive in love, coz people surely don't! I think the sad thing I have had to contend with was believing people who told me they know me when things were good, but seeing how quickly they would switch up on me for the slightest baseless accusation. I have seen that hindsight is in fact 20/20, but coming to your senses after the fact cost us both!

I have to let the Pisces in me take a back seat, and let logic lead, but sadly, that's not how it works! A Pisces feels the seen and unseen, we feel deeply, and that includes both pleasure and pain. Life shows it's sense of humor that way...