Empty Bottles Full of Stories

by R.H. Sin

that the world is hard, that people are soft, and all of us are terribly looking for ways NOT to shatter.

Where there is pain, there is love.

the world doesn’t make much sense without the people you love.

I think you care too much but you pretend as if nothing bothers you.

So please go on gently and always remember to let all things that weigh you down go.

The same way people, both men and women, dead or alive, have gone through and/or will go through too much of too much.

She had tragic eyes— sad eyes as if she had seen too much or had too many stars die within the edge of her pupils.

Always in me, there is a moon and some nights it lights my sky, while other nights it emphasizes my brokenness.

Always in me, there is a thunderstorm and some nights it understands me, while other nights it takes my breath away.

Always in me, there is a great sadness and some nights it hurts, while other nights it is silenced by laughter.

It hurts . . . of course it does, because we were made to hurt. To feel. To try to understand even when we know we cannot. It hurts . . . of course it does, and at times, we won’t know what to say, but we will try even if the words are hard to project. It hurts . . . of course it does, to watch you, the people we care about go through hell and not having the power to heal them the way we should. It hurts . . . of course it does, to breathe memories, the ones that take you back to a place when it all made sense. Where the fire of pain was smaller than it is now. It hurts . . . of course it does, as it always does. When love isn’t enough, strong enough to save the one you need. It hurts . . . of course it does. The solitude. The ache. The longing to be understood and the craving of human interaction . . . of touch, of laughter, and watching it slip before our naked eyes. My dear, it hurts, all of it, of course it does . . . And the wounds are deep enough, they always are. And they will always hurt a little more than before. My dear, it hurts, believe that you cannot outrun this. Abandon this. Destroy this pool of feelings. Understand, how pain is the curse that will tear you apart but also, the blessing that will bring us all closer together. Understand that sometimes life isn’t beautiful. That sometimes life is hell but we’d rather feel the chaos than feel nothing at all.

And lastly, it hurts because feelings matter and you could never run far enough from all the things you feel.

Your sadness is significant. Your sadness is important. This thing that you feel will strengthen your soul if you let it. So feel whatever it is that you need to feel. No matter what it is, you don’t have to be silent.

there are moments where she feels as if she’s falling apart she is unraveling and yet she is still strong she is still powerful

the screams are usually silent hidden behind closed doors heavily guarded for fear of being judged all those dreadful emotions kept secret on pages of journals afraid to speak about it so you write it down and this is how poetry is born