Everyone has his own story, which means different types of
pain. I collapsed on the floor with my heart on the ground and all I could say
was why. I couldn’t breathe and he didn’t even extend his hand. I yelled and I
threw things with tears streaming and my throat choked up. And he still didn’t
answer or try to help.
I once loved a man so much that I gave him a piece of my
heart, a piece of my soul. And in the end all I got was heart ache, and I never
got that piece back. They call it an ache, but that doesn’t actually describe
it. I once loved a man so much that when he broke me, he shattered my entire
body. My heart felt so heavy, like it was sitting below my stomach, my chest
hurt. My eyes were so swollen I couldn’t open them. My throat was raw and speaking
wasn’t an option. You know what? You are a terribly real thing in a terribly
false world, and that, I believe, is why you are in so much pain. It is odd,
they always say it hurts. They never tell you that it stabs.
Why do they never tell you that it stabs? A few weeks ago I
got used to taking medicine for my insatiable and daily stomachache. I could
never relieve myself from the anguish. But I’m tired, I don’t want another pill
for my stomach but as many grams of pill as it takes to heal the pain in my
soul. Each death around you leaves a scar on life, and a resentment for life.
The pain is unwanted, it can’t be avoided. Nothing matches the disappointment
of crying over a pain that you thought that you were done with. The ending of a
Soul is the feeling that is holding the body by a thread. When you’ve suffered
a great deal in life, each additional pain is both unbearable and trifling.
