#journal thoughts

Yes, love is tricky—messy, painful, fucking hard even.

But I suppose it could be worse.

Life is difficult as it is, yet somehow there is beauty within that difficulty.

We struggle for a reason.

We suffer, and somehow, we grow.

Love has always consumed me.

It’s probably the one thing in this life I’m most passionate about, yet it has brought me more tears than anything else.

Can I learn to be grateful for the pain that comes with loving someone?

Can I be grateful that I’m still capable of love at all, when there was a time I thought I might never feel it again?

People tell me to be grateful—

for life, for air, for struggle, for work.

And I am grateful.

I just have a strange way of showing it.

I think I need to learn from the people who smile through hardship.

Most days, I walk around with a straight face, looking miserable, while being undeniably blessed to be here.

I am blessed to cry over love.

Blessed to cry over struggle.

Blessed to feel deeply enough to be hurt.

Some people never get the chance to experience the emotions I complain so much about.

And somewhere, deep down, I know I’m happy too.

I just don’t know how to show it.

I suppose there are worse pains than love.

Death, maybe.

So why don’t I know how to carry hardship with grace?

When did I become so selfish?

When did I become so ungrateful?

I’ve fought so hard to keep myself afloat, yet somehow I still feel like I’m drowning.

Then again, maybe even a sunken ship has its own kind of beauty.

Shipwrecks are beautiful enough that people dive beneath the surface just to explore them.

So if I sink, maybe there will still be something worth finding below.

Maybe even then, I’ll find reasons to breathe.

So what is worse than the pain of love?

I’ve tried to make a list, searching for an answer.

And maybe there are worse things.

Perhaps one of them is this—

To go through life never having loved at all.