When Love Has No Place To Go

There are kinds of love the world understands easily.

The tidy ones.

The ones with labels, timelines, and socially agreed-upon shapes.

And then there are the others.

The loves that arrive unannounced.

The loves that don’t fit the form.

The loves that flare alive in the quiet space between two people who were never “supposed” to see each other that clearly.

The kind of love that doesn’t ask for permission before it lands.

No one teaches us what to do with those.

We’re taught how to fall in love, how to date, how to break up politely.

But no one teaches us what to do when love appears in a place where it cannot be acted on…

and refuses to disappear just because it doesn’t fit the script.

No one tells you that sometimes love isn’t a relationship —

it’s a recognition.

Sometimes love is simply the part of you that rises when you see the truth in someone.

Sometimes love is the way your voice softens without meaning to.

Sometimes love is the ache of being asked to suppress something tender and coherent because the world doesn’t have a box for it.

And sometimes love has no place to go

— except deeper into you.

I used to think love needed an outcome.

A plan.

A container.

But real love doesn’t ask to be managed.

It asks to be felt.

It asks:

Can you stay open while holding something that might never be named?

Can you honour the truth of your heart without demanding anything from another?

Can you allow love to be love, even when it doesn’t look like the world thinks it should?

This kind of love won’t make you smaller.

It won’t destabilise you.

It won’t ruin your life.

It will stretch you open in the direction of truth.

It will show you where you were trying to live folded.

It will teach you that allowing is not passivity —

it is choosing not to lie to yourself.

And maybe that is the quiet miracle of it all:

Love doesn’t need a destination.

It only needs a heart brave enough to let it be real.