There are times when you know it's not OK, and that it's not going to be OK. In those times, it's hard to see a purpose; the very thought that there could be a purpose leaves a barbaric after-taste. Why would Someone intentionally allow you to endure something so painful, even for some elusive purpose?
How could there be beauty in something so strikingly ugly? Looking deeper into these situations brings no hint of anything beautiful: there is only more pain, the worst kind of pain. It's the kind of pain that you can't point to, declaring that it hurts right there.
Simply, you hurt.
There's beauty in this pain? There's beauty in this hurt? There can't be.
And sometimes there isn't.
At least not at first.
Sometimes it takes a lifetime of retrospect to fully understand or appreciate the reason. Sometimes it takes that long to even hear a reason. Sometimes, you can't see the beauty in a sitaution until you are completely removed from it.
In some sort of retrospect, I don't think I'd trade my ugly situations for anything. If I didn't go and wasn't going through them, there is so much about me that wouldn't exist. Maybe that's where the beauty in the pain comes from. It isn't inherently in the pain; the beauty is inside the person who has experienced the pain.
The ugly situations of life are the ones that change us the most, for the better if we let them. They will give us a strength we didn't even know we had. There will be beauty from these ashes.
The wounded people are beautiful.
"Wounded people are dangerous; they know they can survive." {{Annonymous}}
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