It Hurt Like Hell But I’m Still Incredibly Grateful For You

Love
God & Man

“Oh, I’m in pieces, it’s tearing me up, but I know A heart that’s broke is a heart that’s been loved.” – Ed Sheeran

I wish I didn’t still look at you like you’re one of the best things that had ever happened to me.

I wish I didn’t still look at you with such eyes full of admiration.

I wish I didn’t walk into every place secretly hoping you’d be there, as I do a double take in every mirror looking past strangers, looking for one familiar face in a crowd.

I wish I didn’t still think you were the most handsome person I’ve ever seen.

Even if there are people more attractive. Even if I have their undivided attention and they are into me, they just don’t do it for me the way you did.

The truth is you taught me that attraction isn’t just about what someone looks like, it’s about this emotional connection.

It’s about someone’s mind and how they make you think and learn and grow.

It’s that person that just makes you see things differently.

The person that makes you a better version of yourself.

Everyone else seems like noise compared to you and what you brought to the table.

It’s in certain moments it just hits me, you’ll always mean so much more to me than anyone else.

And even with the pain you’ve caused or maybe I’ve inflicted upon myself clinging to things based on unjustified feelings, I still look at you like I’m the lucky one.

I heard it’s been said if you hurt someone and they still look at you in the exact same light as they did before, if they still talk to you with excitement and respect you, it’s love.

Maybe unrequited love is something all too familiar, I’ve learned to cling to.

The honest truth is maybe I shouldn’t feel the way I do. Maybe my friends will always be the ones disliking you on my behalf. But I could never even if I tried.

Part of me tries to play it cool like you didn’t ever mean that much. But you are the most real thing that’s happened in my life lately.

I keep trying to deny how hard I’ve fallen or how much it hurt but no matter how brave of a front I can put up, I still turn my head sharply when someone says your name. My heart still races really fast when someone mentions you.

If you asked me tomorrow how I really felt I’d only lie if that was something you want from me.

But I’m over here posting stories hoping it’s your name I see. I’m over here posting pics hoping maybe for a like. And I know it’s silly buying into all of this. But I have.

I don’t know when it all happened but one day I just woke and I realized it’s you. It’s always been you.

I don’t try and play coy or follow any rule I’m supposed to. It’s every like. Every view. Every answer when maybe I should be a little more subtle or care less. But I’ve never been someone who is good at that sort of thing. I don’t know how to teach a heart like mine not to care.

If there was a switch for turning my heart off maybe I would.

The truth is before you came into my life I was so afraid to feel anything at all. You woke a heart long afraid to feel anything too deeply. Adding light to a soul that knew darkness, giving a voice to someone who became comfortable numb with silence. Uttering three words that tasted bitter and unfamiliar rolling off my tongue. But with you it was okay.

For the first time in a long time, I love you didn’t need to be followed by I’m sorry.

While many fear heartbreak and shut themselves off to pain. I truly believe even when you get hurt and you feel things heavier than you ever thought you could, there’s beauty to it.

I believe it’s only when you respect pain do you get everything good on the other end of that spectrum which is love and happiness and that makes it truly worth it.

There’s beauty to someone making you feel things that deeply. How much you hurt will always be an accurate depiction of how much someone meant to you. And if asked I wouldn’t trade the pain for the world because that would have meant I taking away every good thing that led to it. TC mark

Kirsten Corley

Kirsten is the author of But Before You Leave, a book of poetry about the experiences we struggle to put into words.

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