Because everyone should know.
There’s worse things than pain. Pain can be poetry, pain can be your saviour, you can save yourself from heartaches.
You can’t save yourself from “nothing.”
So you hate-talk? You execrate that unfaithful heart which betrayed you. You hurl accusations in groups of old friends and homies, at the heart which turned into a stone; seeking for solace in their hushes and on their shoulders, which would be so hard- no-impossible! Impossible to achieve for the many days, perhaps many weeks or many months to come ahead. And a few weeks later when you have rowed half-way through this cumbersome ocean of what people fancy calling ‘moving-on’; you suddenly come across one of their pictures/voice notes or whatever trigger-to-past-memories and you feel this pang in the stomach as if someone just punched you straight in the chest!
That smile on the sinner’s face sets the rowing boat on an automatic backward mode, giving wet eyes and a bout of mauldin self-pity. Miserable! Isn’t it? The intensity of dislike for someone you liked so much one day…
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