Ep. 6 - Confessions of a Former Delulu Cegil

 This article is part of the series:

Advice from a Sister from Another Mother

A collection of honest reflections and practical lessons from a 30-something to her 20-something sisters—about love, self-worth, career, money, and navigating this wild thing called life. Written from the other side of the storm—because I might know a thing or two.

"Twin Flame? More Like Trauma Buddy."

Let’s start with the truth:
I was delulu.
Not cute-delulu. Not "omg I think he likes me" TikTok-delulu.
I’m talking hardcore, overanalyzed-every-text-message-and-built-a-future-from-a-soft-smile delulu.

The kind where I genuinely believed this man was my person.
The kind where I googled things like:

"Signs he’s your soulmate even if he’s emotionally distant and dating someone else."

So yes, I was that delulu cegil — cewek gila.
Not because I loved him, but because I built a goddamn cathedral out of his maybes.

Soulmate? Or My Trauma Algorithm Playing Tricks on Me?

We had chemistry.
Like, intense, addictive, can’t-breathe kind of chemistry. Eye contact that felt like it meant something. Conversations that spiraled into midnight confessions. That kind of rush that makes you think,

“This must be rare. This must be real.”

And because I was lonely, open, and hopeless romantic (read: pathetic), I mistook that intensity for truth.
Turns out, we were just two people with unprocessed wounds that clicked like puzzle pieces.

He wasn’t my mirror soul.
He was just someone who triggered the exact wounds I hadn’t named yet.
And I? I was his emotional IKEA showroom—pretty layout, wonderful lighting, no real commitment, just curated moments and free samples of affections.

How Did I Even Get Here?

Let me dissect my delulu logic in retrospect:

1. "He remembers little details about me."
   Delulu brain: "He’s emotionally in tune with me."
   Real brain: "Some people just have good memory. That doesn’t mean they want to build a future with you."
   
   
2. "He said ‘I’ve never met someone like you.’"
   Delulu brain: "He’s in awe of our connection."
   Real brain: "Cool. Still didn’t choose you."
   
   
3. "He told me he hasn’t dated anyone since me."
   Delulu brain: "He’s waiting for the right time. Maybe we’re meant to reunite."
   Real brain: "Or he’s emotionally stuck, or worse—using that to keep you emotionally available."
   
   
4. "We shared music, movies, books, favorite places."
   Delulu brain: "This must mean something deep."
   Real brain: "Girl, that’s literally every connection in the first 3 months of falling in love."
   
   
5. "He said, 'I hope one day I could marry someone like you.'"
   Delulu brain: "Should I go with a Javanese Paes look or a white lace gown by the beach in Bali?"
   Real brain: "HEY! HELLOOO! YES, YOU!  He left you at maybe, and you got emotionally hostage for years."

Why We Matched (A Little Too Well)

If I had to put it under a microscope—and I have, many times—here’s the truth:
We matched because our wounds recognized each other before our hearts did.

I didn’t fall for him because he was perfect.
I fell because he activated something familiar—something broken.

He was emotionally distant in a way I knew.
I grew up trying to earn emotional safety, trying to decode silence, trying to be “good enough” to be loved without conditions.
So when he gave me 60% and kept 40% in shadow, I didn’t run. I leaned in.
That dynamic felt like home.
Dysfunctional, but familiar.

And him?
He probably loved being adored without being demanded.
I was emotionally available, unassuming, and deeply observant—everything a high-functioning, emotionally avoidant man finds intoxicating... until it gets real.
Maybe I was too fresh, too curious, too quietly sincere, too real—someone who hadn’t learned to perform or play the game yet.
Then they vapors. Because presence feels threatening when you're used to self-protection.

It wasn’t a soulmate connection.
It was our childhood wounds high-fiving in disguise.

What I Know Now

He wasn’t the one. Not because he was heartless, but because he was already halfway down a path I was never meant to follow. Emotionally. Spiritually. Logistically.

And maybe I was never meant to fit into the life he was building— the meticulously curated one, full of titles, strategy decks, and the kind of legacy that comes with private drivers and family foundations. Everything made sense on paper. But I was never meant to be a bullet point in someone’s five-year plan.

We crossed paths for a moment. And then, like some stories do, ours just quietly ended.

I thought he was my person. Turns out, he was just a plot twist—brief, intense, never meant to last. A lesson in illusion. A chapter I’ve closed.

I don’t miss him. I miss who I thought I could be with him.

But I know better now. I don’t need a twin flame. I need someone steady—who meets me where I am, and stays.

Delulu cegil out.