11/07/2025
WHEN LOVE TURNS INTO A CAGE
They call love a gift from above—
but no one warns that gifts can leave scars.
No one mentions the “I love you” whispered softly can be the same grip that grounds your flight in the name of protection.
Love wasn’t built for tiptoeing through minefields. It should be a sanctuary, not a sentence. It should lift your spirit, not lock it away. Yet here we are: love with checklists, deadlines, and heart inspections. You inhale only after justification, shine only with approval, evolve only through apology.
So tell me—how is this still a blessing
when liberty is indicted?
The truth-tellers know: love isn’t ownership wearing a mask. It’s not “You’re mine,” it’s “You’re magnificent.” Not “Dim your light for my comfort,” but “Blaze, and I’ll fuel the fire.”
Love that heals doesn’t leash your joy. It doesn’t tag your ambitions “excessive”
or your voice “too bold.” It doesn’t hush your honesty and brand it “harmony.” No.
That’s tyranny in tenderness’ clothing.
When independence raises alarms, when truth feels like treason, when quiet is the only safe harbor— that’s not love; that’s endurance.
But authentic love?
It inhales and exhales with you. It cheers your uniqueness, applauds your growth,
and welcomes you back the wider your wings span. In genuine love, freedom isn’t the enemy—it’s the melody. They sway in sync, pulse and possibility. If your romance begins to read like a rap sheet— tear up the page.
True blessings expand; they don’t confine.
The instant you erase yourself to retain another, you’re not loved—you’re imprisoned.
Genuine love liberates. Counterfeit love dreads the open sky. And the day we mistake chains for cherishing, we turn wings into weapons.