it hurts to be something but it’s worst to be nothing with you
They say love is like water: life-giving, nourishing, essential. But what happens when the water flows too freely, when it’s poured too generously, and it’s never received the way you meant? What happens when you give and give, and still, it isn’t enough?
Maybe it’s true—sometimes people get bored of you when you show them too much love. But it’s not because your love is too much. It's because it was never the kind of love they needed. It was never the kind of love that could take root, the kind that could truly grow. And so, you give more. You pour more. But the water just runs off, unable to settle into the cracks where it’s most needed.
They say that if you give too much water to a plant, it will die. But what they don’t say is that it depends on the plant. Some plants drink deeply and stretch toward the sky, absorbing all that life has to offer. But others, more fragile, wilt when they receive too much.
It’s not the water’s fault. It’s never the water’s fault. It’s the plant. It’s always the plant.
It’s easy to blame yourself, isn’t it? You think, “Maybe if I had held back. Maybe if I didn’t care so much, they wouldn’t have run away.” You convince yourself that your love wasn’t right, that it wasn’t enough, but the truth is—your love was always enough. You just gave it to the wrong person. You gave it to someone who wasn’t ready to receive it. You gave it to someone who, in the end, didn’t want it.
And now you’re left with the emptiness of giving without receiving, the ache of wanting to love and be loved in return, but not finding anyone who can truly accept it. The water has dried up, but the longing still remains. The heart still wants to give, still wants to pour, still wants to nurture. But for what? For who?
What do you do when your love is too much for someone to carry? What happens when you can no longer blame yourself for not doing enough, because in truth, you did everything you could? You poured your heart out. You gave them all you had. Yet, they couldn’t hold it, couldn’t grow from it. And now you wonder, with a weight in your chest:
- Was my love enough?
