Love is a luxury

What hurt wasn’t that she was wrong to leave, but that deep down, I knew she was right. Love is a luxury some can’t afford. Not in a metaphysical sense, but in the mundane, material sense. What is love? When you’re struggling just to keep a roof over your head, doing all the ordinary things just to survive. Why bind someone to your struggles, especially when they don’t need to share your fate? Who will win this internal fight? My mind says women hold on to their man long enough until they can branch off to someone better. But my heart insists I’m a fool for entertaining such poisonous thoughts—that she could have left a decade ago. And here I am, caught between them like a child between quarreling parents, just wanting the screaming inside my head to stop.