**Journal Entry Love, Legacy & Other Complications** The love I grew up around wasn’t bad, it just wasn’t the kind that made me feel like love was a safe place. It felt conditional sometimes. Like love meant doing things right, being useful, earning your keep. And because of that, I think I’ve spent a lot of time trying to _earn_ love instead of just letting it exist. The role models I had… taught me more about what I don’t want than what I do. And I’m not mad at them for it not anymore. They were doing what they knew. But it shaped me. Made me hyper-aware of everything I give and everything I _don’t_ get back. So now, when I love, I overthink. I over-give. I love hard, deep, with my whole chest but I also analyze every crack in the floorboards like I’m preparing for an earthquake. I want to believe in soft, mutual love, but I still flinch sometimes. Still brace for impact. And when I think about family, about having kids I realize maybe it’s not even about wanting them. Maybe it’s about wanting to prove I can _do it better_. That I can raise children who feel seen, heard, _safe_. That I can break the cycle. That I can look a kid in the eyes and say, “You’re not here to complete me. You’re here to be _you_. And I’ll protect that.” But honestly? I don’t think I need to give birth to do that. I already plan to work with kids forever. My entire career path is shaped around helping little ones grow into their own light. Plus, I’ve got enough siblings when they start popping out babies, I’ll just snatch one and raise it like it’s mine. Auntie of the Year. Period. Also… let’s be real… part of me wants to have a kid just to see if I can handle the pain of pregnancy and delivery. Not because it’s wise. Just because I’m curious and apparently a little unhinged. Don’t ask me why I don’t even know. And marriage? I think I romanticized it more for the vibe than the reality. The venue, the dress, the cute-ass Pinterest board. Being asked. The ring. The photos. The _aesthetic_ of commitment. But when I really break it down I could be with someone my whole life and get married at 76 just for fun. If he’s mine, he’s mine. A contract doesn’t guarantee anything. Especially not with men 💀 they be out here moving messy _with_ and _without_ a ring. So yeah. I’m still figuring it all out. What love means to me. What I want it to look like without the pressure of legacy, guilt, or proving anything to anyone. Maybe I don’t need to be a wife or a mom to be whole. Maybe I just need to keep being someone who chooses love on _her_ terms and builds the life she actually wants, not the one she was told to chase.