Tuned to Ache

I hear the tunes. My heart drops.

It is the familiar scent of a melody once experienced in your presence. The feeling of a memory not so long before but so distinct in feeling. The ache of every tune. I was tuned to ache. I was designed for destruction. I was cured to bleed again.

The wounds are not meant to heal; it is you who are meant to adapt to the bleeding and only through adaptation does the wound heal even though it never does.

The past pokes at our weaknesses. We are all stories of history; some more tragic, some closer to holocausts than higgs boson discoveries; but we are all a mixture of both.

We are the different flavors of pain. So distinct; so beautiful.

I was meant to be devastated by a tragedy and to wake in an alternative realm where the tragedy is only a word, a memory, a tune.

I was tuned to ache with the melody of the stories.

I was tuned to ache for the past.

I was tuned to ache for the longing of my presence for a momentary presence.

I was tuned to be.