He left. So I’m hurting.
She left. So I’m hurting.
I was ignored. So I’m hurting.
Missing someone. So I’m hurting
I’m hurting, hurting, hurting.
I’ve always been angry with hurt,
hated the ways it’s made me feel,
questioned its acquaintance with me,
asked ‘why me?’
why me?
why me!
over and over again.
I’ve thought to myself;
its broken me
stolen parts of me
left me wounded
left me stranded
so,
aren’t my emotions in the right place?
For long I thought they were;
that hurt was like a contagion,
infecting parts of my conscience.
One cell communicating hurt to another cell,
passing it on like a baton in a race
Hurt, I’ve come to realise though,
is what makes us human.
If it didn’t hurt when he left, you never shared love
If it didn’t hurt when she left, you never shared love
If it didn’t hurt when you were ignored, that person didn’t really mean anything to you
If it didn’t hurt when you were missing someone, that person didn’t really mean anything to you
Hurt then is a symbol for love
It’s proof that love exists
that we’re capable of love,
of loving and being loved
When Jamie Anderson said “Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love”
I felt it.
Hurt is really just love,
love disguised;
an unrecognised blessing.
If you’re hurting today,
be grateful
for your heart has held love.
To hurt then is better than to have nothing that hurts.
– Vaishnavi Radhakrishnan