Pain

Pain is a funny thing. In 7 years you would think I would have moved on, and some days I have, but on others all it takes is that certain smell, or that joke, or that song and I'm suddenly right back there, aching as if I have a hole in my chest. Like I'm missing out on something so amazing if I could only get back there everything would be okay.

I've often thought about those days. I've often thought what if and how my experiences have changed me into who I am today. Some days I just feel broken. I have been brought to tears before, but you get to a point where even though you still want to cry, you realize there's just no point. Tears don't accomplish anything. So you move on. But that pain is still there.

I remember growing up being told, every trauma has a grieving period. And I thought, in my young naivete, that all you had to do was let it all out. Make sure you grieved, and then life would get back to normal, you could forget about the pain.

I was wrong. Your pain never goes away. You carry it for the rest of your life. Like a phantom limb, hanging from your shoulders. You just sort of..learn to deal with it. Push it into the furthest corner of your mind for a few hours, a few days, a week. And then when it comes out to breath, right when you thought it was gone for good, you air it out for a while, feeling morose until you put it back into it's box for another day.

Today I'm airing it out. Savoring it almost. Like a fine wine that's been left to age. It hurts.