Untitled

Pain is the essence of fear, people live comfortably because they fear the pain of living with no regrets.  But for those fortunate enough to have the courage to live, to truly live, they are the ones called foolish.  They make choices others would call reckless because they don't understand how to live without fearing pain.
Then you have people who live with pain every day, not because they thrive in it but because it was thrust upon them by people that are meant to love them: mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, friends.  People who've been there your whole life caring for you, suddenly deciding to rip your heart out while you're still alive.  Leaving behind a gapping hole and a shell of a person.
It never happens to people who deserve it.  The ungrateful, shallow and cowardly imbeciles are never the ones to get hurt.  No, it's always the whole-hearted people who live with their hearts on their sleeves.  
The hole created is too big, serrated and ugly for anyone - including oneself - to fix.  Pain caused by others becomes frequent as the hole becomes part of the soul stained shades of purple, black, grey and orange with pulsating red where your heart once was.  You become tired and weak from the effort you put in to try and fix yourself, eventually you give up as you realise it's pointless.  You're unfixable, broken beyond repair and nothing you or anyone else does can change that.  You sleep, eat and get through your day with as little effort as possible so that the pain you went through remains buried deep within yourself.
But then something totally bizarre, peculiar and magical happens.  You open your eyes and someone is standing there with eyes that look at you with innocent curiosity and wonder.  Slowly you let yourself become attached to them and eventually you fall in love with them but you dare not let them see the huge gaping hole in your soul.  
Playing ignorant you pretend not to see them slipping away because you'd rather let them go quietly than get hurt again.  Stubbornness pushes through as they latch onto your soul and demand to be let in.  Determination clouding their eyes like a raging storm, enraged that you'd let them go without a fight. All too suddenly the pain you'd buried rushes to the surface, choking you, blinding you.  Your entire soul pulsates an angry red as old wounds are reopened.  
Instead of running, they stay.  Holding you close they comfort you with their kindness.  Slowly you let them in, you let the calm blue of their soul soothe and heal the aggravated wounds in yours and with time start to fill the hole ignorant selfish bastards made.