Love and beauty

My life now must seem to you like a never ending road of sadness and despair. I wouldn’t blame you for thinking this. I tend to write here when I need to get stuff out of my brain and usually it’s the broken parts of my life that get an airing. But it’s not all misery. I just need you to know that. This illness has taken so much from me over the years, but it has also blessed me with the capacity to experience wonderful things with the intensity that I experience the bad. The love I feel for the smallest, most insignificant things is limitless. I feel it in my stomach most of all, which is why I find it so hard to eat when I’m unhappy. I would describe it as a constant glowing ember, that fades sometimes and grows sometimes. I feel it for the broken, and the strong. I get goosebumps when I listen to music that I find beautiful, I just close my eyes and breathe it in until I’m flooded with it. I stand at the window on beautiful days and wash myself with the sunshine; but you’ll be just as likely to see me sitting in the window watching the rain on the windows with the same awe.
Over the years I have experimented with various religions and spiritual practices, and although I appreciate some people will get a lot out of them, I have just never been able to find something that adequately reflects who I am. As someone who struggles with identity, the ever changing state of my personality just doesn’t conform with any organised religions.
I have a desire to find people who will understand the love I have for the world and the heartbreak I feel every day about the suffering I see everywhere. If everyone could just feel what I feel just for a while they would understand.
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