Writing on the wall

In which life hurts

There’s love somewhere in there.

I remember the feel of it, that blanket of trust and warmth and pride and ease. From the inside, it seemed impossible that anything could exist outside the golden globe.

But I’m on the outside now. And I can’t find a path back through the purpling bricks of disappointment and hurt. A wall started stacking the minute disillusionment hit, the minute I slid out of the golden bubble. Each brick whispers a memory, and as I brush my fingers against coarse surfaces, those jolts of remembered pain rip their way back in. 

And I jerk back from love.

My body built those bricks in response to threat: each one shaped around grit that would have scoured my heart raw. Each one is a warning that this love hurts.

To get back to love, I would have to pass through these mounds of past pains, feeling them anew. 

I know that love is somewhere in there. But it might not be worth the journey.

3 Comments

  1. “I know that love is somewhere in there. But it might not be worth the journey.”

    I feel this is a truth that many people need to learn. Love doesn’t fix everything, it’s not all you need, and there are few hurts greater than the hurts delivered alongside love. And it doesn’t have to be that way, love can be found that won’t wound that way.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

      1. I think we would first have to get society to generally accept that sometimes, it IS time to let go. Most people think you should simply find a way to continue existing while bleeding out from the inflicted wounds – because they’d rather preserve the social structure than the people that comprise the structure.

        Like

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