People can never really explain the feeling of being hurt, not to the exact sliver nor to the point. It’s only truly understood when there is no going back to the way things were. It is felt in the stabbing feeling in the middle of the night and the headaches of wondering, “should I have let them go?” It is seen in the places where they used to laugh, which are now empty in the shadowed daylight of the past… Pain isn’t completely heard until you think you hear them calling your name somewhere amongst a vast crowd; only to realize, it wasn’t them. And no one was calling you, in fact, no one even notices you. It is tasted in the flavor of peppermint and chai lattes and messy, red ketchup smeared everywhere after that late-night baseball game where the air felt… unreal.

Pain is understood when we realize that such a thing as unreal, does not exist. And that the cold reality that has now become of us when we think of them is now how we are to continue- existing. In the shadowed daylight of the past where we must choose to move on or to stay & cherish what had been the most perfect moment in history…

Pain is only acknowledged when it’s over.

And love is only hated when the healing hurts.

But moving on, growing old, and forgetting everything that could have been- that is the only slow pain which can be explained to mere mortals…