Your lives are so precious and so beautiful, no matter how mundane and unexciting you think they are- and the people in your life are so precious too, just- please, please, please if you take ANYTHING from me, any lesson, any thought, any wisdom, please learn to trust and love and feel that care for one another with your whole hearts, hold your friends so so very close while you’re all still here, you’re so wonderful, so incredible as you are, please don’t let the tribulations of this world blind you to the beauty in yourself and others- greed and distrust and stupid- trivial things, labels and titles and names, they don’t matter, what matters is the love we can share here and now, in this world, in this moment
Please- don’t let yourself become closed off from the love in your life. You don’t know how long anyone has, and nobody should leave this world with regrets
It hurts me a lot, seeing the ways people close themselves off, how they make up reasons to think themselves undeserving of love. Hurts me to see the ways we come up with to hurt one another, how we divide ourselves into meaningless little groups, frittering away our lives on excuses for pain.
It hurts to trust, especially as someone whose trust was once abused so terribly by people I let close in my life, and even now those demons can rear their ugly heads- but if I had stopped trying, stopped believing, stopped trying to reach out and make connections and believe people again, I would have become just… a shell of myself. A bitter, hateful husk.
I damn near did.
My friend who I so recently lost, she showed me that. To share a laugh and a smile, to let go of the fears and the walls and the things I clinged to out of fear of ever being hurt again. And you’d think in losing her, there would be some… grand and tragic rebuke to that belief, some part of me going “ah, you see! look what a fool you were to love again!”
But no. There isn’t.
I’m sad- so very, very sad. I weep openly more nights than I don’t now- but the love she planted in my heart, the overflowing love for so very many people, it has only grown more sure. I cling to and love the people who mean the world to me so tightly, let little slights and minor problems simply wash over and away from me, because the truth is still there: that we are creatures for whom love, even the banal and mundane and the trivial, is a salve for so very many wounds.
You just have yo let it in. And in many ways, that’s the hardest part.