It aches to see a world that doesn’t ache.
I say this, because I’ve met people who don’t. It bothers me to see somebody ‘okay’ with what happens.
I ache for unrealisable dreams and all those options I didn’t take. I love so much that it aches.
I feel if something doesn’t ache, it isn’t worth any consideration.Yet, I think, its only when it hurts, it means that it meant something.
Well then if we know that it aches, why do we give it the power to hurt us in the first place? Do we enjoy this pain that spreads like a plague in us? This soreness and anguish that makes us fight and reason every possible word that was ever uttered. That makes you want to cry until you’re numb and makes you shut your self down, because you refuse to feel. That spasm that you feel, that makes you want to scream so loud that it deafens the hatred in the world and hurt yourself so deep that you forget how damaged you are inside.
Do you take pride in your hurt? Does it make you seem large and tragic? …Well, think about it. Maybe you’re playing a part on a great stage with only yourself as audience.” ―John Steinbeck, East of Eden
I think about hurt and how much that aches, so much, that I’m not surprised why I don’t remember names of people I meet or phone numbers of people I know. It’s probably because I don’t have any space left in my head. It’s this persistent need to want to know what you ache for, if you dare to dream of meeting your heart’s longing even when it hurts the most.
I wonder if that random graffiti on the wall aches somebody’s heart, because that’s where they last saw their loved one and promised not to meet again. I wonder if that small bouquet of lilies still make someone gasp, as it reminds her, of her first walk to the altar that did not last over a minute, because he had found someone else.
Remember that it takes guts to tremble. It takes guts to say fine, when they ask you how you are. It takes guts to smile, when its killing you inside. Sometimes, it takes everything in you to find happiness in a place where you are most lost. Sometimes it takes the most wounded wing to know how strong the breeze is, and how precious the flight is.
I know the only way to live is to love so much it aches. Love everything, love the hurt that loving can leave. To ache is to be alive.