Heavy Hearted Stream of Consciousness

I have only ever lived in this time. I have only ever lived in this country.

So I don't know what it is really like elsewhere. I don't know what it is like to live in constant fear, or worry. I don't know. And selfishly, I don't want to.

As far as I am concerned, we have enough tragedy here. We have enough suffering, and pain, and yuck, here. That's enough for me. Enough for me to know it is not all rosy. Enough for me to know what hurts.

And as long as I have been here, as long as I have been cognitive enough to recognize such tragedy, I have found that I take on more than I ought to. I hold a lot in my heart. In the way that I take on excess sadness, and guilt, and hurt. I take it on, and I hold it in my heart.

And I absolutely realize how ridiculous that is. But on the most basic, empathetic level,  I do not think I can help it.

I just, hurt.

It hurts to think about Boston. It hurts to think about any type of horrific event like that, anything devastating like that.

Maybe that's just human. Maybe this is just a really good sign that I am human. But, good God, it would sure be nice to cut down on the yuck, on the hurt, on the - quite frankly - shit storm life is brewing right now. I could use a little break. My heart could use a little rest.

Not the case though, is it? It's not slowing down, it's not done. It's here, right now, and it hurts.

So, I'll try to focus on those that hurt more. Send love, and peace, and hope, to those that are hurting more. To those that need it too. And hope, that maybe, this will disperse, hurt less, weigh less.

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