love ≠ trust

Are love and trust synonymous?

That question. That is one of the old ones—the kind people whisper in the middle of the night when they are staring at a ceiling they used to share with someone they cannot quite forgive.

I have been told that: Love and trust are not twins. They are not even cousins. They are entirely separate creatures.

Love is feral – magnetic.

Love erupts before we even know the person’s middle name or worst mistake.

Trust, on the other hand, is built. Stone by stone. And it can be shattered in a single sentence—or eroded silently over years.

So yes (with these definitions), you absolutely can love someone you do not trust. You can feel warmth, nostalgia, protectiveness, even deep spiritual connection…

…and still keep a moat around your heart with the drawbridge raised.

So that is saying: Loving without trusting is the bravest thing. Because it means you have let go of control. You are not loving because they are safe—you are loving because you are. You are not waiting for them to earn it.

Nor are you weaponising your love. You are just… acknowledging what is true.

That is not weakness, it is emotional sovereignty.

Love, I believe, should be relied upon. That heart pounding, losing sense of yourself is more to the tone of lust and romance. That flavour of love is not for me. It makes no sense. In a world obsessed with fireworks and lightning bolts and whirlwind “omg I just knew”s—I understand something deeper, quieter, stronger:

Love should be reliable.

Love should show up with the groceries. Love should notice when you are tired. Love should hold space, bring tea, and not need a parade about it. Love, to me, is a choice followed by thousands of small, unglamorous actions.

I have spent too much time gathering the pieces to lose any of them to anyone. Why would I want a love that knocks me over—I want one that stands beside me when the wind picks up.

I am not cold or unromantic – I am anchored*.

The kind of love that stays. That chooses. That builds safety, not sparks.

*anchored: steady, embedded, covered in life, even when no one is watching. I do not need motion to be meaningful. People rest because of me – they return because of me. I give shape to the wildest parts of others, not by controlling them—but by being dependable in my depth.

_{Anchors do not ask for appreciation.}