The Four Questions You Should Always Ask Yourself About Love

There’s something terrifyingly tender about love. Not the swipe-right, “we both like tacos” kind of love. The kind that reaches down into your ribcage and asks to be let in. The kind that sees you at your worst and still calls you home.

So how do you know if it’s that kind of love? You ask yourself—not the version of you that’s lonely at 2 a.m., not the version trying to impress their friends, not the version addicted to the idea of potential. You ask your quiet self. The one that already knows. The one you sometimes ignore because it speaks softly, and fear shouts louder.

Start here:

Can you tell them everything in your heart?

Not just the shiny parts. Not the curated highlight reel. But the tangled mess, too. The fears. The dreams that still scare you. The stories you haven’t said out loud. Do you feel like you have to translate yourself to be understood—or can you just… speak?

And if the answer is no, or not yet, then ask yourself why. Sometimes it’s time. Sometimes it’s trauma. But sometimes it’s because your heart already knows it won’t be safe there.

Are they kind?

Not performative kindness. Not polite manners. Not Instagram activism. Actual, soul-deep kindness.

Do they treat people well when no one’s watching? Do they make space for your bad days without keeping score? Do they speak to you with softness, even when they’re angry or tired?

Because passion is fun. Chemistry is fireworks. But kindness is what carries you through all the ordinary Tuesdays of life.

Do they help you become the best version of yourself?

Not in a self-help, checklist kind of way. Not because they’re trying to fix you. But because their presence reminds you of who you are when you’re not trying so hard.

Do they cheer when you shine? Challenge you when you’re shrinking? Do they hold a mirror to your growth, not your flaws?

Do they leave you better than they found you—and do you do the same for them?

Can you imagine them for the rest of your life?

Not just at the altar or in the highlight reel. But on a Tuesday morning when the coffee’s burnt and the world feels heavy.

Can you imagine building with them, grieving with them, aging with them? Can you picture them holding your hand through hard news? Laughing in the quiet moments when there’s nothing left to prove?

And if you can’t, or if the vision doesn’t bring peace—listen to that. Sometimes the body says what the mind is too scared to admit.

There are no perfect answers. No love that doesn’t ask something of you. But these questions—they don’t need a checklist. They need honesty. They need quiet.

Because love, the real kind, the soul-deep, sleep-breathing, storm-weathering kind—that love grows best where truth lives.

And the truth is: if you can’t tell them everything in your heart, if kindness doesn’t live in the pauses between your words, if you feel smaller instead of freer in their presence, or if your future looks lonely even when they’re in it…

Then maybe it’s not love.

Or maybe it’s not your kind of love.

And that’s okay.

But ask the questions anyway.

Because your heart deserves answers that don’t shrink it.