The Red Flags I Ignored Because I Wanted Love to Win

Sometimes, love isn’t blind—it’s just deeply hopeful.

I remember the first time he made a comment about what I was wearing.
It wasn’t loud.
It wasn’t aggressive.
It was just:

“You don’t think that’s a little much for where we’re going?”

I laughed it off.
Because he cared, right?
Because maybe I did look “a little much.”
Because maybe love meant adjusting, softening, compromising.

But that was the first flag.
And I folded it up neatly and placed it in a drawer labeled “Maybe I’m Overthinking.”

When I look back now, it wasn’t one huge moment that told me I needed to leave.
It was a thousand small ones.
A look.
A delayed response.
A joke that wasn’t funny.
A compliment that felt like a backhand.

And every time, I swallowed my discomfort in favor of maybe he didn’t mean it like that.

The Hope That Held Me Hostage: