to be loved without conditions

12:41 AM and there’s something strange about the way thoughts hit you at this hour. When the room is still, your phone screen is the only light and no one is expecting anything from you.

Tonight, something whispered : “I want to be loved without conditions.” Not loved for being wise or warm or self-aware. Not loved because I said the right thing or because I kept my emotions in check. I want to be loved in the moments that don’t look impressive. When I’m quiet and tired or distant and unsure or saying something that doesn’t land right. I want love that doesn’t shift when I’m not at my best.

That kind of love feels almost mythical. Because most of us grew up learning that love had a shape — polite, neat, filtered. You had to earn it or at least deserve it. You had to play the part. I still remember being told to “smile properly” to “fix my tone” to “not overreact” and I did, because I didn’t want to lose the closeness I had. Somewhere along the way, love became a performance. And I got good at it.

But lately, I’ve started to wonder what it would feel like to be loved even when I’m not trying. When I don’t have the energy to explain myself or when I react in ways I regret later. When I forget to reply. When I shut down. When I’m not the version of myself I like showing people.

I think part of growing up is realising that unconditional love isn’t always loud or dramatic.

Unconditional love is just someone who stays. Who doesn’t use your low days against you later. Who doesn’t keep a scoreboard of how much you gave versus how much they did.

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And it’s not just about other people loving me that way. I’m learning to give it to myself, too. That’s the hard part. Because I’ve internalized the conditions so deeply. I catch myself thinking : “You can rest after you’ve done enough.” “You can be kind to yourself after you’ve improved.” But what if there’s no test to pass first? What if love, real and patient can exist even in the mess?

I still crave it. I won’t lie. Something smaller. Like someone who knows I overthink and still doesn’t make me feel difficult. Someone who doesn’t disappear when I’m unsure of myself. Someone who reminds me not just with words, but with a presence that love is not something I have to perform for. And maybe, slowly, I’ll learn to become that person for myself too.

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So, it’s past the midnight, while the world sleeps and my brain refuses to, I’m writing this as a reminder that love without conditions isn’t too much to ask.

It might be rare.

It might appear slow.

But it’s real.

And we all deserve to find it or at the very least, stop settling for the version that makes us shrink.

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