📌 Personal Journal Disclaimer
This is a personal reflection published under Pax Trail.
You may read and resonate with it, but please do not republish, quote, reference, or analyze this content publicly without written permission from the author, Thosyn Pax.
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They say, “If you don’t try to change, then you don’t love me.”
But think about that, why should love demand a sacrifice of self?
Why should I abandon what lights me up inside just to prove I value you?
Why should you silence your passions just to make me comfortable?
Love is not an eraser. It is not a factory where we sand down the edges of who we are until we look alike.
Love is supposed to be the space where your weirdness and my weirdness coexist without fear.
He loves football. She doesn’t.
So what? That doesn’t mean they cannot work.
It only means when he’s cheering at the screen, she can be lost in her book.
She loves the club, the party, the dance floor. He doesn’t.
So what? That doesn’t mean they cannot work.
It means she can lose herself in the music, while he finds joy in the quiet, and when they come back to each other, they still belong.
Sure, relationships thrive on compromise, like meeting halfway, adjusting schedules, learning each other’s rhythms. But that’s very different from demanding someone give up their essence, their passions, or their personality. People don’t have to like the same things to love each other. What actually matters is respect, space, and the freedom to coexist in difference.
The dangerous thing is when someone sees “different interests” as a threat rather than an opportunity. That mindset is what makes relationships turn toxic. Because then love stops being about connection and becomes about control. And the second love turns into control, it dies. If love needs me to stop being myself, then it isn’t love, it’s ownership disguised as affection.
Real love is not control, it’s not remolding, it’s respect.
If I need you to shrink, bend, and reshape yourself into my idea of “perfect,” then I don’t love you.
I love a puppet.
And let’s be clear: puppets don’t bleed. Puppets don’t dream. Puppets don’t bring the unpredictable spark of being alive.
So no, I will not kill my interests in the name of love.
And I will not ask you to kill yours.
Because love that requires you to stop being you isn’t love.
It’s possession.
And possession is hollow.
Ire ooo