Is Love Supposed To Hurt Novels & Stories

Every little memory felt like a fresh scratch across my heart. “I wish I had the right words, baby,” Mom said softly, her voice calm and patient, the way it always was when I was hurting. “But I need you to hear this… falling in love isn’t something to be ashamed of. It’s not bad. It means you’re human. It means your heart works.” I sniffled and wiped my nose with the sleeve of my hoodie. “Then why does it hurt so much?” Grandma squeezed my hand tightly. Her palm was warm, her grip soft but steady. “Because you gave him something real. And when real things fall apart, it always hurts. But that pain doesn’t make the love wrong.”

Beth said seriously. "Love? I love Sir Elijah ?," I asked Beth and I thought for a moment. "Yes, Love because you are already hurt. When you love someone you will be really hurt. Not just the simple pain but the extreme pain," Beth replied. "It hurts even more than Sir Elijah's insults to me, Beth. I'd rather have him scold me all the time than feel it. I don't want to feel it, Beth," I said crying. "Don't cry anymore, okay ?," Beth replied.

Melody said. “Yes ma'am.” “Bye, sugar. Kiss baby Melody for me.” Cynthia laughed weakly. “You bet I will.” The call ended. Melody stayed sitting there for a long time, staring at her phone. Then she leaned back slowly and looked at the ceiling. Why was love so complicated? Why did it always come with hurt? Was it even possible to love someone without hurting at some point? Without bruising your heart? She thought about Cynthia, Jamie, about Brandon, herself and Logan.

Carlota is wicked. "Loving someone doesn't mean you're not capable of hurting them." She justifies herself by giving a long glance in David's direction. I get caught up in her words and for a split second reflect on her veracity, but come to the conclusion that she is wrong in her point of view. Love is not like that, when we love, we do anything for the happiness of the person, even if it means giving up that love at some point. Of course, hurting the other is inevitable, but not consciously. Not physically. "He's bleeding." I speak and his eyes meet mine again, the dark irises adding a touch of insanity, a very specific glow, as the head moves like a serpent's.

She swallowed before speaking those words to him. “It's not love for me, Kieran. Love should never be like this because when we love someone we are never supposed to hurt them but we both have hurt each other. We both have made each other suffer, so it can never be love for me,” she tried to make him understand everything but this time tenderly. “Now tell me how could you expect me to love you when I know at any moment, you would kill someone because of me,” She paused to peer deeper in his gaze .

“But shit, dealing with this is so fucking disruptive. I can’t even remember what it’s like to function.” “You know how I think of love, Mar?” “How?” I asked. “People go through life trying real hard not to get hurt. They refuse commitment, give themselves reasons not to date, nitpick little things on first or second dates and call them red flags, look for shadows of unhappiness in a future that hasn’t come to pass,” he said. “But I think love—real love—is finding that person who you know will hurt you at some point. Someone who can shatter you completely. But they’re just so wonderful and so perfect for you that you’re willing to be hurt if it means you get to have them in your life.”

Afterall, it is said that the people we love the most are the people who end up hurting us the most. Their trauma to us stabs deeper because we love them. They are able to hurt us so deeply because we love them so deeply. Passionately. And thinking that they love us too. My father loved me. Tasha loved me too, but I ended up hurting them. I loved my mum to the point of doing anything she asked of me, but she ended up hurting me, silently wiping me out of her life as if I were a stain on her impeccable reputation. No one can hurt you if you don't love them. You just wouldn't give a fuck about them because you don't care about them.

Didn’t he pity me even a little? Tears glistened on my eyes as I racked my brain, trying hard not to break down. It hurts so much. It broke me deeply to discover the things that he’d been hiding away from me. I used to think that love doesn’t cause pain and that it was something beautiful but the reality was completely different. Love hurts like hell. Right now, I felt like my heart was being plucked from my chest, leaving a hole that will be impossible to fill . All the people that I’ve loved have all been a disappointment. Why?

Was turning a blind eye against all the atrocities done against you, closing your ears from all the spiteful sounds that certainly break you little by little and successfully kill you, all bits and parcels of love? Were all these parts of love? Of loving? Was love supposed to hurt you? To let you bask in pain as agony seeped into your bones, in every single cavity there was in your body? To make you feel worthless, unwanted, and not enough? Did it have to make you sleep with your eyes open as your endless nightmares, insecurities, and anxieties haunt you? Was it supposed to make you beat yourself up every single day the sun decided to rise? Was it all supposed to be like this?

"Because I’m in love with you. More than I should be. More than I planned, I never saw it coming, but it happened." His face shifted, surprise softening his expression before it cooled into something more distant. "And so, your way of showing love is getting me fired? That’s how deep your love runs? How does that sound to you? Do you know how much it hurt?" He stood up and picked up his jacket from the couch. "You know what? I’m tired. Tired of being thrown around in the name of love. Real love isn’t supposed to hurt this way, and isn’t toxic either."