So I’ve been reflecting these past few days about the complex sort of dynamics that love has particularly imposed on us, fragile, social creatures.
And I’ve realized, quite unceremoniously, how it can only be love that can compel us to tell people their crude realities— the most difficult to verbalize, the most painful to touch on, the ugliest of them all.
Because why would anybody go through all the trouble of pain, if not for it, right? 🤷🏻♀️
Ahhh, so is this how thirty-one-year-olds really sound like? 😆
Anyway, so I know that we all have our crosses to bear everyday. I have my own share too, and now they are honestly quite plenty to even look at, all together.
But hey, life, as much as love, is not all roses, and rainbows, and sunflowers.
Sometimes, love means just being there, enduring.
And one day, you’ll just wake up and realize how, in time, when you leave life and love to patiently grow on their own, they naturally heal and bind things together,
And that makes us all hope for broken things to be whole again,
Although not exactly the same as before,
But yes, whole,
Anyway, I’m back to review after this.
Sending you all some well-thought-of love tonight. ❤️
It’s World Mental Health Day on Oct.10, send some love around too. 💚