📖 Inside the Book
A few previews from Your Love Was a Lesson by Indie Rose.
When Love Becomes a Lesson
You thought it was love—the late-night calls, the way your body leaned toward theirs like gravity was a promise. The ache you called passion.
But sometimes, love isn’t love. It’s a classroom. And you’re the one bleeding on the chalkboard.
You thought if you gave more, forgave faster, bent yourself into enough shapes, they would finally see your worth. All you did was teach them
that you could survive on the bare minimum.
They Learned — But at Your Expense
You taught them how to love. You showed them patience and softness. You gave them grace they never earned. Now someone else benefits—
they’re better, wiser, kinder because of you.
You’re left holding the receipts of everything you gave. Some people learn on you, practice their growth in your arms, take your tenderness as training…
and when they finally rise, they rise away from you.
Stop Begging for Bare Minimum Love
A “good morning” text isn’t commitment. Pulling up once a week isn’t devotion. Sleeping in your bed doesn’t mean they’ve chosen you.
Stop confusing activity with effort. Stop confusing presence with partnership.
You kept lowering the bar so they could step over it, celebrating tiny efforts like grand gestures:
“At least they texted back.” “At least they didn’t disappear this week.” “At least” is the language of a woman negotiating with her own worth.
You Are Allowed to Be “Too Much”
They told you, “You’re too much”—too emotional, too intense, too needy. You shrank your dreams and bit your tongue until it bled,
just to stay held by someone with a small heart.
You were never too much. They were too little. Your fullness is not the problem; their emptiness is. The right one will never call it excess.
They’ll call it home.
Your Worth Isn’t in Their Hands
You kept asking them to see you, choose you, validate you—as if their gaze could crown you or their approval could certify your value.
But your worth was never in their hands. Not when they held you. Not when they left you. Not when they came back just to prove they still could.
Your worth is non-refundable, non-transferable, non-erasable—and it’s yours.
Ghosting Isn’t Closure — It’s Cowardice
They didn’t disappear because you weren’t enough. They disappeared because they weren’t brave enough. Ghosting isn’t mystery or confusion.
It’s avoidance. It’s immaturity. It’s cowardice.
Ghosting is not closure; it’s theft. It steals your peace and leaves you bleeding in the middle of a sentence. Real closure comes from your
decision to stop waiting for an explanation.
