move toward the pain

Time really does heal everything, doesn’t it?

But on that same note, that doesn’t mean it was worth it, the scars. It still hurt like hell and I would never want to go back there if given a second chance. I don’t remember the pain, of course, but I remember the acknowledgement of the pain, the deep wrenching awakening that wailed within me like a tiny nail edging its way further in. Pain is indescribable, isn’t it…

I remember the feeling of emptiness yet there was a pain that seared through me leaving me breathless, squeezing my lungs until I felt I would just stop breathing and disappear. It’s astonishing really how a feeling so significant leaves you without a word or a trace, settling comfortably into a scattered memory, like a film roll without order or sequence.

I suppose that’s the beauty of pain. It digs and digs until it can no more and then abandons you one day, leaving behind a gaping hole — a hole you can only fill with memories, trivial lessons and curiously open into compassion and truths.

I do believe without this carving out of the soul, joy would not be experienced as deeply as its counterpart, pain. Joy needs room to play in; to roll around, jump unabashed, and though sometimes forgotten, it full-heartedly dives into that awaiting vast void, patiently forgiving and changing you forever.