Why Love At All?

Sometimes, it’s not that we don’t want love.

It’s not that we’ve given up on relationships.

And it’s definitely not because we want to be alone forever.

We’re just scared.
There’s a part of us that still aches from the last time we tried. From the last time we gave our best only to be left in silence. From the last time we spoke our truth, only to be misunderstood. From the last time we showed up, again and again, only to be ghosted… again.

Tell me; how do you unlearn the pain?
How do you love when your past keeps whispering, “Don’t trust too quickly”?

How do you let someone in when the last person used the door to walk all over your dignity?

I’m scared, and I’ll say it out loud, not for pity, but for honesty. I’m scared to meet you, future wife.

Not because I don’t want you.
But because I don’t know if you’ll recognise real when you see it.

I’m scared that you might treat my vulnerability like a weakness.

That you’ll call my desire to talk and connect too much.

That you’ll think I’m being clingy when really, I just want to feel wanted.

I’m scared you’ll wait for me to always call, always text, always show up… until I stop and then blame me for the silence.

And what if… just like her… you never say sorry, even when you're wrong?

What if you come with wounds you haven’t tended to, and instead of healing, you use my love as your bandage, bleeding on me every time I try to hold you close?

We don’t talk enough about this.
About how many of us are walking away from love, not because we hate it, but because we’re tired.

Tired of being the only one trying.
Tired of being misunderstood.
Tired of being hurt for loving too deeply.
What if our scars are now the walls keeping love out?

What if we’ve already walked past people who could have made us feel safe—but fear told us to keep walking?

What if the people meant for us left because we didn’t know how to receive them?

We often say, "It’s hard to find someone."

But maybe... it’s harder to allow ourselves to be found.

So again,
Because deep down, even after all the pain, we still want to be held.

We want the late-night talks, the honest laughter, the slow dancing in the kitchen.

We want someone who knows our flaws and chooses us anyway.

We want someone who listens, stays, and makes us feel like home.

We want someone to whisper, “You’re not too much. You’re exactly enough.”

So maybe, even though I’m scared…

Even though I overthink the next "hello" because I fear it may lead to another “goodbye”…

Even though I’ve been broken…
I’ll still choose to love again.
But not blindly.
Not desperately.
Not in a way that forgets myself.
I’ll love with eyes open and heart guarded, not closed.

And if you’re reading this, scared like me, just know, you’re not alone.

We are many. We are soft, strong, wounded, willing.

So I ask you; what would love look like if we gave it a second chance?

Not with the same people, but with better lessons?

What if love didn’t mean losing yourself to find someone else,

but meeting someone who helps you find more of who you truly are?

Would you try again?
Would you love again?
Or are you still bleeding in silence, like I’ve been?

By Victor Raul Puobabangna Plance from Eggu in the Upper West Region of Ghana

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