mckenzington

To be honest, I always thought that love - real, true, honest love - would heal all of my pain. That all of the suffering that I’ve felt in my life would right itself like a wilted plant after a hefty watering. I came up with this idea when I was 13. I knew nothing about anything. In the love I experienced after this age, I did feel a weight lifted. I felt a shift in my guttural universe. But I always thought - too bad, we got so close. The pain remained. Better luck next time. I am destined to be Sylvia Plath: one day you’ll find me with my head stuck in the oven.   I kept hope, because I noticed that the love I felt from person to person kept getting deeper, which meant to me that it would keep chipping at the pain until it was gone. Right now, I’m experiencing the most intense and indelible love I have ever felt. It has blown everything out of the water; it feels like how love in movies looks. And the pain is not only there; I have realized that none of the pain ever left. Love does

i am coming to you from the hull of a sailboat. it's midnight, and the waves are gently and recklessly tossing the boat from side to side. i'm eating gas station m&ms and the sky is imposing. jung claims that a common cycle of myths involving a hero who gets lost at sea, eaten by a sea creature, and then slices his way out when the creature lands on the shore, with t he amniotic quality of water and the sea creature as a symbol for the womb, points to a longing to attain rebirth through the return to the mother’s womb. love is dynamic:  it can be lost, longed for, and reborn. and so can i.  people change. this is a fact of life that, when you're 19 and heartbroken, is hard to swallow. but now i'm 22 and jaded, and i'm the one who's changed. pain is almost always the main catalyst for change. my short life has been full of pain, and the worst pain i ever felt happened on january 29. profound loss leads to profound suffering leads to profound change. but the l

We know why we sleep but we don't know why we dream. Some things might forever be mysteries. I've resigned myself to the fact that I'll probably never be suicidal, because my anxiety is so intense that I have found countless ways to worry about death itself. I think this is what they call Stockholm syndrome. It's like how my friend, in fourth grade, once got cast in an opera solely based on him fitting into a sailor suit. He had two minutes on stage and his grandmother sat through this whole three-hour German opera to see him. A journalist brought him Lord of the Rings figures to play with and he spent an entire rehearsal painting tiny Legolas and Smeagol. We are meaning-making creatures, but life is constantly running away from meaning. We stay because leaving is an unsatisfying option. Even if it's three hours long. Even if it's in German.  It's like how I didn't realize how much I smile and laugh until a wisdom tooth extraction made it painful. It'