Created to Love

When you come to love
through a rose-stained lens,
you begin to worship the ache.

You call hunger “home.”
You rename chaos “chemistry.”
You let intensity masquerade as intimacy,
and convince yourself
that what flickers must be eternal.

So you perform.
You disappear in pieces.
You make yourself smaller
to fit inside someone else’s confusion.

You bargain with your own knowing.
You soften what is sharp.
You take every warning sign
and dress it in the language of “potential,”
until even your wounds
start to feel like destiny.

And then—
truth arrives.

Not like thunder,
not like a shout,
but like dust—
quietly settling
on everything you tried not to see.

And once it touches you,
you cannot un-feel it.
You cannot un-hear it.
You cannot un-latch from it.

You cannot return

to the innocence of before.

Truth stays.
It presses.
It disrupts what you built to survive.
It refuses to be reshaped
just to keep you comfortable.

Still—
I know this much:

My heart was not made for confusion.
My love is not careless.
My loyalty is not seasonal.
I do not break
at the first sign of weight.
I do not abandon
what is sacred to keep.

So I asked God—
why does my history feel like a graveyard
of almosts and halfway homes?
Why does deception reach for me?

And He answered—
Because you keep mistaking
 captivity for connection.

You keep returning to Egypt,
calling it love
when it only knows how to take.

You keep choosing
what binds your hands
over what could free your soul.

You turned from the light
and trained your eyes
to live in dimness.

But darkness is not passive—
it multiplies everything
that keeps you small.

And when the place meant to hold you
is filled with fracture,
you forget the sound of peace.

You forget
what it feels like
to rest.

So rise.

Place your life
back into God’s hands—
not halfway,
not conditionally,
but fully.

And walk.

Not back to what broke you.
Not toward what barely sees you.

But forward—
even if your voice shakes,
even if your steps feel unfamiliar.

Walk toward abundance.

Toward truth that does not tremble.
Toward a love that does not require your silence
just to survive.

Walk toward life.
Toward liberty.
Toward the kind of freedom
that does not ask you to bleed to belong.

You were created to love—
not to resurrect what keeps dying,
not to carry what never lived.

You were created for light,
not to learn how to breathe
in the dark.