The Beauty of Suffering

tumblr_ok38xkR8Y31raay8eo1_500.jpg

I taste the warm salt through my teeth.

I missed this, really–pain–crying, grimacing silently, and clenching my fists till my palms blossom into white and blood drains.

Pain. Tasteful pain–plunging deeper into pain until my tongue dries, and tear ducts on the inside corner of my eyes sting.

I’m seeing the simultaneous blurring and clearing of my vision as my last tear flows.

There’s a hollow block inside me being dragged down by ropes, tugging the walls of my wretched heart.

I try touching the ceiling from my bed, only to realize my hand is miles, miles, and miles away from it.

Everything is so beautiful. I feel alive. I’m a person.

Pain is good, it is. It juxtaposes the tainted from the pure.

My heart is screaming.

How lucky I am to have felt, than not to have felt at all. 

Image

Advertisements

Jimboy – A Short Story

8

Lola Myrna is a soft-spoken 70-year-old woman who lives with her toddler grandson, Jimboy. She has ash-gray hair, and she keeps mostly to herself.

 Lola is well-known in their neighborhood for adoring only two things in this world: her garden and her only grandson.

Continue reading