My Heart Hurts

Will it ever stop?

I Miss You

I miss you. Those words are sharper knives than we realize. We hurt without the person we love, while also hurting knowing the person we love is hurting without us. Missing someone is a slow, decay of love that we cause ourselves. When we miss someone, they are not with us. Though once, they were here, and it was love. No, it was more than love. It was a connection of the soul. It was the answer to life itself. But they went away. And now we are left with memories of that connection. Pictures of some moments. The memories begin to blur. The thoughts and the words that were exchanged in the memories disappear. And now all that is left in the memories are how we remember what we felt. That is not enough. With faded memories, we are left searching to find what once made us feel what we did. Missing someone hurts so much because we are disconnected. We may know they love us, but we cannot feel it. We pretend nothing will change, but everything is changing every second we spend missing them. Typing words or saying them over the phone becomes repetitive, as if we are trying to convince ourselves over and over again that the love is still there. But it is still there. We just struggle showing our love from where we are, so we doubt. The love is always there, but not being with them, not being with a part of our soul, means we can't feel like ourselves. So we tell ourselves we are changing. Only thing that is changing is our idea of the connection. We believe it is broken. It becomes fuzzy, but it is there. Missing someone is devastating to our hearts. You were once here, I had a bite of bliss and now I'm left with the bitter taste. I miss you.

Cycling

I want to ride bikes with you. I know that sounds silly, but I want to peddle a bike and follow your lead. At any time I will be able to change my direction, yet I will continue to follow your path. It may be dangerous, you are more experienced, but the experience in the journey is worth the risk. And maybe along the way, I'll catch up to you and cycle ahead. I think you'd secretly like me leading us to nowhere. I want to do something so conventional, something so simple it became a cliche for easiness, but I want to make it life-changing. I want us to change everything we thought we knew.

Branch Light

My Evil Looking Dog

Life

When older, how will you refer to your youth? What will be the tone of your voice when you describe the way you were raised to your own children? Will you speak of the privileges you had that you never took for granted? What about the sacrifices your parents made that you never showed appreciation for? Will you tell them how naive you were and how it took you years to see the truth? Or will you mention how it was once you against the world and with maturity you learned how to accept people's love? Maybe you will give them comfort when you share with them that your were as lost and confused as they are now. Don't forget to tell them that it will get better. Because it did get better right? There is a magic promise the universe makes with us that it will always get better. Or so we tell ourselves. We may not be older yet, but one day, we are going to be expected to summarize our youth in the advice we give to the future youth. How will you describe yours?

New Friend

What is a friend? I tend to think of a friend as someone who I can relax with, have fun with. Simply, someone who brings me happiness. If so, then I have friends in almost everyone I know. What troubles me is, if I have plenty of friends, why do I feel alone? Why is it that when I am upset, I can't find myself comfortable enough to confide in any of these friends? Shouldn't a friend be someone who can comfort me? Or at least someone I can find comfort in? I can't help but feel alone often; even frequently. So I wonder, is this what growing up is? With age, is loneliness a new but permanent friend? I suppose everyone eventually reaches this point of maturity where a truth is uncovered; that everyone has troubles. This point is where the previous selfishness of our youth is exposed. Our once constant need to share our problems and pain with our friends is gone. I am not speaking rhetorically. I really do wonder if this is part of becoming an adult. I want to understand my loneliness. I want to know if I should learn to love this friend. But most of all, I need to understand how I, someone with many kind people to help share my life with, can cry many loud tears that no one will ever hear.