I forgot which movie it was that I watched this week but I member well what one character said.
"If it hurts, then it isn't Love."
Of all the many senseless things I've heard in my life, that was the most revolting. Love hurts. Love hurts. People bleed because of Love. People choose to die because of Love. Love, amongst all its other attributes, most certainly hurts. It can't be love if it doesn't hurt.
I simply refuse to believe that the world is overflowing with masochistic people who enjoys the bitter sting of pain just for the kicks out of it.
I know of a girl. She's very lovely and smart. She writes beautiful prose and breathes grace as she dances the world in tiptoes. I imagine her toes are as broken as the pieces that lay on the floor. With her heart as flat, like old soda, pointless, unflattering, and unrelentingly hopeful. I drank her brokenness because although we're both complete strangers, I have found kinship in her pain. But she's stopped writing, for over a year now. I would like to think that she's finally happy. That she no longer needed to bleed to write. That she no longer needed pain to sigh.
If you have read, seen and felt this emotion that binds us all lovers together, then you would know that pain is the shadow of love. To ask for love without pain would be asking to embrace a soulless devotion. A mediocre bliss and a passionless romance.
Pain doesn't defile love for the volume of pain mirrors the magnitude of love. Love cannot be defined without pain. For how can you measure happiness without a string of tears?
Even the Son of God bled and died for Love.
