Some loves are ruthless.
Lots of people will tell you that a love that causes pain is not really love at all. Those people know not the richness that lies deep in the wounded love. And I do not wish it upon them.
But I am here to hark to the speculative and scarred hearts. To the curious and disdainful souls, untrusting of any authoritative claim on what love is. Keep your guard up. Make it difficult to forget the misery caused by love, loving, and lovers. Be vigilant of the sweetness that is buried deep in your personal experience. That tender spot is sacred. Resiliency and despair are the most tragic pair: a pair that harmonizes among a choir of emotions, out shining all others.
The love I speak of is like a thistle; beautiful, but treacherous to possess.
Some love shames the ego, some love screams at our inner child, and yet other love trips our wire of insecurity. Like a love lost. Or ended too soon. Or not ended soon enough. Or that lives down the road and yet is a lifetime way. Some love calls us to say it loves us, and then is never heard from again.
Having survived a villainous love makes you strong. Tempered. Experienced. It gives you strength. The goodness of love is accentuated by the pain, bringing out notes of joy and release that cannot be otherwise enjoyed.
Love cannot always be nurturing, romantic, unconditional. Love has no bounds. Love runs wild through our lives; coloring our worlds brighter, but not always within in the lines. And so we take what we get, clean the slate, start again. Knowing that love will return, always. Self love, mother love, brotherly love, bittersweet love, and love and affection.
Some loves are ruthless because they make the heart capable of loving more.