I wanted to write this blog because over the years, and in 2023 especially, loving someone or something has brought me so much pain that I’ve genuinely not wanted to live anymore. It’s been that crippling. But through the pain, and sometimes even during it, I have had the best, most hopeful moments of my life, making me realise how much of a gift it is to be breathing. To live as a human is an exhilarating thing, as beautiful as it is wild, but it’s also terrifying. I’m grateful that through my bad days, I know that incredible ones are on my horizon, and those are the ones I choose to live for. It intrigues me how, as humans, we don’t just live day by day, but second by second. Any one moment can bring us euphoria or the deepest sadness. It’s such a fragile, precarious path that we tread along. And the most delicate thing of all (at least from my experience): love.

To love another heartbeat is a thing of beauty, but like all beautiful things, it comes with a price. You don’t think about the cost at the time. It feels too good to worry about the pain that hides in its shadow. You glow from it. You cling to it. You do all you can to preserve it. But like the flowers that wilt and the leaves that fall, those we love don’t stay forever. They can’t. Perhaps they leave you by choice. Perhaps they’d stay forever, but the choice is taken from them. Whatever the cause, the result is the same: your love remains, but without them to share it with, pain becomes your companion. Their absence is gaping. It’s a hole so large you’re convinced you’ll always feel it. It’s unimaginable pain, the kind you’re unsure you can survive. And lately, one question has surfaced: Was it worth the price?