sol.ace_r

Love — even the word itself feels like it can quietly break you.
It’s warm, painful, dazzling — and cruel all at once.

To me, love is the belief that no matter how much I fall apart, it’s somehow okay.
It’s the willingness to break for someone —
to face the fear instead of running away.
Of course, that doesn’t always mean it’s healthy.
But love has always been a little mad,
something reason alone could never explain.

Love is choosing to be a fool —
perhaps the loneliest kind of companionship in the world.
There are moments when you feel alone even together,
and strangely, moments when you feel warmth even miles apart.

Above all, love is watching things change.
We wish it could stay like the beginning forever,
but people change, hearts change, and life moves on.
Hold on too tight, and it hurts.
Let go too soon, and it leaves regret.

Not every love is happy,
and not every love is beautiful.
Yet still, I believe love is the one feeling
that makes a person live differently.

There’s a saying: “A love that hurts too much was never love.”
But sometimes, I find that saying unbearably cruel.
Because love — real love — can ache in ways words can’t explain.

It hurt because I loved deeply.
I was shattered because I gave my whole heart.
To say it wasn’t love feels like denying the truth of what I felt.

It hurts because it was love.
I broke because I loved.
I cried because I loved.
I regretted because I loved.
And I still can’t forget—because I loved.

So instead of saying, “It wasn’t love because it hurt,”
I want to say, “That love just hurt me too deeply.”
The feeling itself wasn’t wrong.
Maybe it was the person, or the way we were together,
that was too harsh to my heart.
Perhaps that’s why—
though it was love,
my heart became too wounded to call it that anymore.

There are people who believe that if they call something “love,”
they can be excused for anything.
But that feeling isn’t love — it’s control, obsession, even violence.

“Because I love you.”
“If you really love me, you can endure this?”
“I’m doing this for your own good.”

There are people who use such words to weigh down someone’s heart with guilt,
to take away their freedom,
to wound them — all while calling it love.
But that isn’t love.
It’s forcing someone into the shape you want them to fit.

Real love gives the other person room to breathe.
It respects their life.
It’s the quiet effort to see through their pain.
Even without raised voices or demands,
love can still be deep — and quietly burning.

But some people wield the word “love” like a shield —
destroying the very person they claim to care for.

What’s even more heartbreaking
is that many victims believe that’s what love is.
The ones who grew up seeing love twisted that way,
the ones who were taught that love means enduring —
they blame themselves, and keep holding on.

Have you ever been hurt
by someone’s mistaken kindness,
or by violence disguised as love?