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Not me tearing up🖤
There are downsides and upsides to love. I dont know which weighs more. I dont know if we even count the downsides when the upsides exist to illuminate all that is painful. Love is love. I think that is the best definition I could go on by now. All words will be too rigid and too confined to just express them with. I will say this again I think we will forever fall on expressing it truly....fully. I don't believe that there will be more of a pain than not being able to save the ones you love. To have hands and legs that are crippled. To feel like you are running on a treadmill. Exhaustion but still in the same place. Heart beat racing. Muscles drained. But still there. The deep urge to throw the "why?" Out to the lord but to have his love illuminate it all. If you ask me I don't know exactly how many distractions I have left. How many delusions I have yet to speak to myself. How many "you got this" i have. I am afraid of facing the truth. I am afraid that I have already faced it and grown numb to it. There is no beauty in this. Its painful and that is what it is. Sometimes its that fact we just have to accept. Give up? I don't think so.
what the heart covets, who can know it? it is treacherous and desperate beyond measure.
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To whoever needs to hear this.🖤 Night
There is something about growing up in a loud household that just follows you everywhere. You could be somewhere distant from your home and overhearing a loud noise or two people fighting takes you back in time without any need for time traveling. I think it would be good if I just whisper to myself "its ok we arenot there anymore" just to ease the pain. But that won't do much. My bones shatter inside me and that is no metaphor.It took me going out of home and moving to realize its effects more. The shouting....the throwing things...the silent days....even those silent days where your fear escalates fearing something will happen. I wonder if my parents get to relive it like me. I am sure my siblings will. Its their invisible hands holding mine in all of this. Its the dark circles beneath their eyes that speak for them. That is also grief I think. The grief of having to make peace with these as normal because my parents didn't know any better. If I get the chance to speak all thats on my mind will I shout and go maniac infront of their eyes?I don't know. But I too realize that little me also lives in them. That one day they too were me....unwillingly pushed into this sad of a reality. Maybe I got to this point of forgiving them because I want to forgive myself that I see in them too.
-Yeab
-Yeab