The best people I know are the worst. They have been tossed, torn, lied to and deceived. They were beaten, bruised, disfigured, and disgraced, and yet, somehow, they overcame. They have turned fierce. They have worked hard.
The best people I know have shown gratitude for the anguish, they have met grief with sincerity, and found peace in the parts of their broken plans and wild dreams.
Live the difference between empathy and kindnessThey are comfortable with discomfort and appreciate that pain is not just a feeling, but a phenomenon. They bathed in failure and drowned in suffering. They felt everything. They are raw.
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The best people I know have learned that a strong scream is no match for a silent stare. They know the empty, agonizing terror that makes the bones pulsate, the despicable darkness that the light dreads, and the cold dust where the embers glow.
They knew the true bleak mischief dripping with despair, and they collapsed over and over again to rise again. Their wounds did not triumph. They have recovered. are advancing.
The best people I know whisper to themselves, sigh so long that their lies become truths and their fragments become scars, whispers pure as pain,
“Hear me, smash me, and slay me, if you will. Lie to me, tread on me, and steal from me, if you will, but I am stronger than your weakness, I am brighter than your darkness, and I am braver than your cowardice.”
They are wounded by splinters in the soul, shattered hopes, and broken bones, but they continue to fight. They have become brave. They are noble.
The best people I know have seen soulmates become strangers and felt ghosts in their veins where the gods ruled.
They have learned that a broken heart can shatter and a broken heart can shatter, but in the end, it can’t break any more and in that bleak beautiful moment, the fracture becomes unbreakable and unstoppable. They do not know fear. They are free.
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The best people I know are not immune to heartache; They are intimate with her. They are the blessed, broken angels who circle the kingdom of holy forgiveness, the destructive divine tears weeping from virgin grief.
They are the lucky and scarred saviors who walk the mournful corridors of deliverance, and the wounded heroes grumbling hymns of clean consolation. They were beaten and spit, kicked and burned, and yet somehow, they overcame. They are heroic. They persisted.
The best people I know are the worst. They made the best of it.
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Written By Jeremy Goldberg Originally Appeared On Thought Catalog