ache.

Sometimes i think that life is nothing but the compilation of different aches. The more we grow the more we have of them. We collect them like magpies collecting blues. We get them in our backs, and our joints. Our heads. Our Hearts.

They cut away at us. Sometimes they are sharp. And other times they are a dull insistent droning, slowly eroding away at our sanity.

We ache so much.

With each loss and joy we are left with the hurt that got us there. A memento of the painstaking labor that amounted to everything, or maybe a bitter reminder of what amounted to nothing at all.

Why does it hurt so much, life?

Why does it punch and jab and bruise and sting?

Even the most resilient has been broken and cracked along the way, why?

Maybe it's so that, through the cracks, we can let the sunlight through.