March 8, 2011

• Written Months Ago...(and doesn't actually reflect the way I feel now)

  There is something equally comforting and disturbing about the fact that getting over someone, that heavy, sometimes piercing pain, isn’t a singular emotion. It’s the stuff poems are made of. It’s ages and ages old. And both people you know and people you will never ever meet have felt it, and will feel it someday. It feels like it should belong solely to you, this pain. After all it is intensely personal. It requires so much of your thoughts and time, and it may even hamper your day. It’s your pain, your burden. And yet it’s not at all. This pain has not inflicted you first. This pain does not even remember your name, because it has been here and done this before, and what, you think you’re special? Nope. This pain gets around.

   

  Now you need to figure out how they all heal.

  • 2:51 am
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