They read my poetry

like it was a warning sign,

not a wound.

Like every word about obsession

must mean I am dangerous,

broken,

crazy.

Strangers who know nothing about me

throw the same cold sentence

over and over again:

“Get help.”

“Stop it.”

“This isn’t healthy.”

But why is obsessive love

always treated like something monstrous

the second someone speaks about it honestly?

People romanticize intensity

until it becomes real.

They adore obsessive characters

in movies,

songs,

fiction,

yet when a real person admits

they feel too deeply,

too intensely,

too constantly,

suddenly they are feared.

Why?

Why is love only accepted

when it is soft enough

to make others comfortable?

Some people do not love quietly.

Some people attach deeply.

Some people overthink,

yearn,

cling,

ache,

spiral,

care too much,

feel too hard.

That does not make them inhuman.

Obsession is not always violence.

Sometimes it is abandonment issues.

Sometimes loneliness.

Sometimes fear of losing someone.

Sometimes a desperate desire

to finally be chosen completely.

And instead of understanding that,

people mock it.

They hear someone venting

and respond with cruelty disguised as concern.

“Get help.”

As if human emotions

can be reduced

to one dismissive sentence.

But so many people relate to this.

That is why communities like this exist.

Not to encourage harm,

not to glorify pain,

but to let people speak honestly

without being treated like monsters

for emotions they never asked to feel.

Maybe what people need

is not judgment.

Maybe they just want someone

to listen

without making them feel insane

for loving too deeply.

Too Much Love, Too Little Understanding