Being in law school is like being enslaved to a narcissistic lover; captivating and cruel, seductive yet merciless. It lures you in with whispers of purpose, only to leave you hollow.

It demands your time, energy, and sanity, yet gives you nothing but exhaustion in return.

You stay up late, tracing the fine print of doctrines like you’re trying to decode mixed signals, clinging to the hope that maybe, just maybe, you’ll finally understand what it wants from you.

You memorize case after case, whispering their names like a prayer, as if saying them often enough might somehow make them love you back.

You convince yourself that the struggle is worth it. That the heartbreak of every failed recitation, the sacrifices of missed moments, the friendships that slowly fade, and the countless sleepless nights are merely a trial by fire, a test of your unwavering commitment.

You give it everything you have; your time, your peace, and pieces of yourself you’ll never get back. Believing that somehow, it will all be enough. You will be enough.

You tell yourself, “If I just try harder, maybe it’ll get easier,” but it doesn’t.

Because an affair with the law, is like being with a cold and distant lover, it only takes. Making you feel as though you must beg and prove your worth with every breath, every second, just to be seen.

And still, you show up every day, clinging to the fragile hope that your relentless devotion, the sleepless nights, the broken spirit, and the unwavering commitment that slowly consumes you will one day be enough to earn its approval.

And when you finally taste a fleeting moment of triumph like a high grade, a perfect argument, a small win; it feels like a rare apology after weeks of being taken for granted.

A cruel, fleeting tenderness, just enough to make you stay. Just enough to keep you hooked.

Enough to make you hopelessly longing for more of what it will never truly give.

And so, you continue knowing it drains you, knowing it makes you question your worth again and again.

You want to love it back, to embrace it with the same coldness and impartiality it shows you; unwavering, detached, and unfeeling.But you can’t.

And no matter how much it breaks you, some foolish part of you still aches for its affection.
Still craves its approval, even as it cuts deeper with every rejection.

And so, you hold on. clinging to the illusion that if you just give it one more sleepless night, one more desperate attempt, it will all be worth it in the end.

And one day, you will.

You’ll grow used to the pain, so familiar with being blinded by your own suffering that you’ll learn to hold the scales with steady hands and carry the sword, not for vengeance, but in honor of your love and duty.

Because that’s what unrequited love demands of you:

To give without receiving.
To endure without being seen.
To bleed quietly for something that will never hold you the way you hold it.

You stay not because it loves you back, but because your heart refuses to let go. Because somewhere in the wreckage of your spirit, you still believe that loving it is enough, even when it never will be.

You hold on with the hope that one day, you’ll realize it was worth it all along. Because while it may have never loved you back, it made you stronger. It forged you in its fire, shaped your will, and taught you to rise—unshaken, unwavering, and unbreakable.

For the love of Justice,

ANA 💋