There are (too) many kinds of heartbreak. So many ruptures of the heart that all of us carry along everyday. Some permanently open no matter how long we stitch away. It’s obvious to see how much of what we do in excess (consumption, addiction, escapism, obsession) are desperate attempts to avoid, numb, or salve those tears.

The hardest thing to do is sit with these pangs, not letting them dissuade us from loving and living, from feeling worthy, from trusting in others and the healing of time, from remaining hopeful for the future potentials. And, if we’re lucky and able, find a way for these wounds to grant us more of our humanity rather than strip it.

Nursing a broken heart can feel endless but, in reality, inevitable. And the experience of life itself is so often brief that we endure and become strengthened in order to experience the worthwhile elatedness felt in-between.

A print will be sent to the first holder.