"Some boys take a beautiful girl and hide her away from the rest of the world."
I have loved quietly, more deeply profound. But they say "love" is an illness to a woman with goals—a disease not easily cured.
I never thought about it, labeled it as exaggeration. Yet the more I observe, the clearer it becomes, and perhaps I agree. Not because women aren't capable of love, or ambition must be put first—but because love demands a sacrifice that aches in the heart of a woman building a stable future.
We choose our directions, our pace, our outlook. Why yield to someone who takes control, rearranges goals, redirects opportunities? A shared focus creeps in gradually—not dramatic, just... different.
From the courtyard, it looks intimate, romantic I must say. But if we step closer, and the unseen details penetrate the surface, an exchange of devotion, a constant maintenance of reassurance.
It functions like an interruption, a pause in momentum.
It seeks dependence—not because she's incapable of balancing both, but because relationships teach her to adjust, absorb, and maintain.
She measures her worth by balancing availability against her goals and emotional risks.
Love versus ambition sparks contradiction. Love craves unpredictability, reassurance, time, and connection—choosing dependence. Ambition on the other bridge demands dedication, independence, responsibility, and progress.
They don't naturally align.
It twists into weakness rather than strength—a true resemblance of illness.
She must choose...focus or time?
As for someone who fought for stability, If anything feels like a hindrance, it's a risk to her goals and well-being.
If and only if love burdens a woman's success...Then love is an illness to a woman with goals.
