Ahhh… that four letter word… LOVE

Ahhh yes—love. That four-letter word that somehow weighs more than a U-Haul full of emotional baggage, exes, mismatched expectations, and three therapy breakthroughs you didn’t ask for.

Why is love so casually tossed around like a beach ball at a summer barbecue, yet somehow becomes heavier than your grandmother’s opinions once it actually lands?

Because somewhere along the way, love stopped being a verb and started being a vibe.

A filter. A playlist. A 12AM “you up?” text.

It became convenience dressed up in intimacy’s clothes. We started whispering “I love you” like it was a coupon code for connection, instead of the sacred contract it was meant to be.

See, love should come with a warning label:

May cause irrational behavior, sweaty palms, soul exposure, and an unexpected desire to grow up emotionally.

But no.

We serve it like an appetizer on a dating app—

“Here’s a little love, swipe left if it’s too honest, swipe right if you’re just bored.”

We say it because we crave being seen, but we forget that saying “I love you” is the easy part.

The hard part?

Choosing them after a bad day.

Choosing them when they’re not shiny.

Choosing them when your ego wants to run and your pride wants to win.

Love is not a sparkle—it’s a shovel. And baby, if you’re not ready to dig, don’t pretend you’re here to build.

And while we’re here—don’t let somebody fall in love with you if you’re still in love with somebody else.

That’s not love. That’s emotional cruelty wrapped in charm.

It doesn’t make you deep. It makes you dangerous.

You can’t ask someone to give their whole heart while you’re still haunted by the ghost of your past.

That’s not healing—that’s hoarding.

And it’s not fair to anyone involved.

Because love isn’t just butterflies and shared playlists and forehead kisses at sunset.

It’s showing up—on the Tuesday mornings when everything’s mundane and the socks never match.

It’s saying, “I meant it yesterday, I mean it today, and I’ll mean it even when I’m mad at you for leaving hair in the sink.”

It’s inconvenient sometimes. It’s vulnerable every time. And it’s not for tourists.

So don’t tell someone to fall for you if you’re still tripping over your own avoidance issues.

Don’t hand out promises like party favors if you don’t have the stomach for follow-through.

And for the love of all that is holy and halfway honest—

don’t ask someone to love you just to see if you’re still lovable.

Because love isn’t a game.

It’s not a badge.

It’s not a backup plan.

It’s a damn responsibility.

If you can’t handle the depth, don’t fake the dive.

If you can’t hold them, don’t ask them to fall.

And if you’re not ready to mean it… don’t say it.

This isn’t cynicism.

This is reverence.

Because love—real love—is a sacred, messy, unfiltered act of courage.

And it’s about time we treated it that way.

With humor. With humanity. With the truth that love, like life, is complicated as hell…

But oh, when it’s real?

It’s worth every ounce of the work.