I used to laugh when movies said love can make a woman lose her mind.
I called it fiction, flowers, and foolish scripts.
But I watched it unfold, real and raw, on my guy’s street
Like a slow-burning drama shot with no director, no pause button.

It began with long walks that had no destination.
She’d leave her house in the evening—no bag, no plan—
And start roaming like a prayer without words.
Circling his block as if the asphalt held his scent.
When we asked, she smiled and said,
“Oh, I was just passing.”

Passing where?
Through three intersections and a cul-de-sac to reach his gate?
Just passing through his shadow?

It got worse the day he touched her.
Yes, they got along. Yes, they did it.
Yes, that moment sealed her heart like hot wax on a fragile letter.
After that, she wasn’t walking anymore
She was orbiting him.
No space left for silence,
No room for breath.
She wanted to hear his voice even when he had none.
She wanted to read his thoughts before he thought them.
She wanted to sit inside his skin.

I saw it in my guy’s eyes—the tired smile of a man who thought he wanted love
Until love became a mirror he couldn’t shatter.
Too much sweetness spoils the tongue.
Too much attention dries the soul.

Because when some girls fall in love,
They don’t fall.
They crash.
And cling like gum on the sole of your shoe
You don’t know whether to be flattered or afraid.

It’s real, mehn.
Love like that ain’t roses and poems.
It’s obsession in perfume.
It’s “good morning” text at 5 a.m.
It’s “I saw you online” when you just opened WhatsApp.
It’s love, yes
But the kind that don’t give space for you to stretch.

And still,
She said she was just passing.