Breathe
By Kelly Méndez
They say that life is about resisting. Resisting the passing of time, the routine, the disappointments, the gray days. But also, and above all, to resist from love. Not from the love that hurts, but from that soft love that does not impose itself but remains. The one that does not need to shout to be felt. The one that is not born from need, but from the genuine desire to share, to care, to see the other with tenderness.
We live in a world that rewards immediacy. We want everything fast, visible, measurable. Even love. We are sold the idea that if he doesn't answer you in five minutes, he doesn't care about you. We have become addicted to tangible proof of affection, forgetting that the intangible also counts. That sometimes, the deepest thing is built in silence, in the everyday, in what is not seen but felt.
That's why I like to think of love as a form of resistance. One that happens when someone chooses to stay without empty promises. When someone cares for you without making you feel like you owe them something in return. When they love you without asking you to stop being you. Resist who loves with patience, with intention, with calm. Who doesn't run, but doesn't leave either.
I also like to imagine that there are stories that begin far away because they first need to connect emotionally. Relationships that are born between words, between laughter via video call, between nightly confessions that perhaps, in person, would take longer to come out. Loves that are not built from immediate physical contact, but from that honest vulnerability of those who are no longer looking for games, but something real. Maybe both, after difficult histories, need that: a space where to believe again, where to heal, where to feel safe again.
Because when you have left relationships that hurt, you value the affection that does not demand, that does not pressure, that does not complicate. The one that hugs you even if they are miles away. The one who is happy for you, who listens to you, who gets excited about your plans and doesn't make you doubt your worth. You discover that love doesn't have to hurt to be intense, or wear you down to be real. That it can also be soft and yet deep. That it can be light, but constant.
And of course, don't get me wrong: I'm not talking about a perfect or idealized love. I'm talking about people who choose, every day, to show their sincerity. Of those who do not run away when there is discomfort. Of those who give you peace, but also excite you. Of those connections that come without warning, but suddenly change everything.
Perhaps one of the greatest signs of love is that: to stay without being asked. To bet on you even when life is complicated. To make a team. To make space. Make plans. Even at a distance, even with different schedules, even with everything going against you. And still love. To care. To be.
I like romantic comedies. The ones with letters, airports, reunions. But I have also learned to value more what happens between scenes: the details, the sincere messages, the shared silences, the little acts that mean everything. That "let me know when you arrive", the "I'm listening", the "I'll always stay, but only if you want me to".
There are loves that do not need filters or scenarios, because what they build feels so honest that it is enough on its own. Loves that are written from respect, admiration and mutual decision to try. Loves where you can be you, without fear, without masks. Where your essence is celebrated, not conditioned.
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