Is Love a Blessing or a Curse

Love is kind. Love is beautiful, in all its forms. But you know what’s even more beautiful? Showing it.

We only live once, surrounded by people who come and go, just like we will one day. So why not share love while we can? Spread it like a disease. Make people feel seen, appreciated, and cared for.

The hard truth is: love isn’t distributed equally. Some people never get enough of it. That thought keeps me up at night sometimes. I’m the kind of person who enjoys giving love more than receiving it. (That’s a lie plz show me love.) Still, giving feels more natural to me. It’s how I express myself.

And how do I love?

I’ll make a doll of you, spending weeks knitting and sewing, searching every shop for the perfect fabric.

I’ll call my grandmother for the recipe of a meal you casually mentioned once.

I’ll paint you, capturing everything you love and softening every detail of your face on the canvas.

I’ll write you a love letter like we’re kids again, telling you how grateful I am that we met.

I’ll stay up with you waiting for your big news, probably more nervous than you are.

I’ll cry at your wedding and people will think I’m your sister because of how much I care.

I’ll spend all my savings to buy you something you’ve been dreaming of, even if I can’t really afford it.

I’ll play with your hair when life feels heavy and listen as you pour your heart out.

I’ll love you until you feel it deep in your bones, until you forget what it’s like not to be loved.

This is either my greatest blessing or my biggest curse, I’m still not sure which. The truth is, I feel emotions intensely. Not just mine, but other people’s too. It breaks my heart to think there are people who’ve never known love. People who lived their entire lives and passed away without anyone ever truly caring for them. People who eat alone, who celebrate nothing, who receive no kind words.

That’s why I do my best to show love, to leave something behind in people’s hearts. To resemble something.

But here’s the curse: not everyone deserves it. And yet, I still feel bad for the ones who don’t. Because what if they turned out cold and cruel simply because no one ever showed them love? What if all they needed was for someone to remind them they’re human?

I spent most of my life loving this way until I realized how empty I felt by the end. How much I gave. How little I kept for myself.

I hate how life hardened me. How there were times when I couldn’t even express my love to the people closest to me. How something as simple as sending a message felt heavy. But this is who I am, and no matter how much I’ve been through, loving others is what makes me feel whole.

I love cooking for people and seeing their smiles. I love knowing my paintings hang in their homes. I love the memory boxes filled with the little things I gave them. I love being the one who plans birthdays, who makes sure people feel special. Maybe I gave too much, but I’m not naive. I’m not a people pleaser either.

I choose who I love carefully. I look past the surface. I see people’s inner child, their softness beneath the layers life forced them to build. That’s how I decide who gets my heart, because I know they need it.

But what about me?

I never expect anything in return. I know I’m loved in different ways, but rarely with the same depth, the same intensity. Still, this is how I am, and I’m proud of it. I wish there were more people like me in this world.

I’ll keep being the person who loves you most, not for anything I can get back, but because I believe life and God will give me back something greater. I believe every act of love finds its way back.

One day, I’ll be a mother. I’ll finally have someone I can pour all this love into. I’ll raise them knowing what real, unconditional love feels like, and I’ll teach them to pass it on. The true people worthy of this great love.

Until then, I pray you are loved, the way you deserve to be, the way you wish to be. And if you ever lose that love, I pray you find something even greater.