“The more a thing is perfect, the more it feels pleasure and pain.”

Dante Alighieri

Why must this ring true within every chapter of my life? Every time my heart gets shattered, I pick up all those minuscule fragments and try to piece everything back together. Those segments that have smashed into dust, though, those I can’t fix, and so, every time a new heartache prevails, I’m left with less and less pieces of myself to hold. Why must what brings me peace and joy also haul along piercing pain with it?…