Beauty Is Pain Meaning Novels & Stories

A bone-deep pain instantly tore through my body. I let out a muffled gasp and collapsed onto the cold floor. Cold sweat drenched my back in seconds. I felt as though my soul was being torn apart. Yet, compared to the heartbreak from just moments ago, this pain felt much milder. With my gaze locked on the bone ring, I whispered to myself, "Just five more days, Tori Dawson. Five more days, and you'll be free from this ridiculous farce."

I lie there, panting, trembling, covered with red marks that are beginning to throb painfully. He approaches, places his hand on my forehead, wipes my tears. "You see?" he murmurs. "Pain is not an enemy. It is a key. It opens doors inside you that you did not know you had. It prepares the way for what is to come." "What is to come?" I breathe. "Pleasure. True pleasure. The kind that exists only after pain. The kind that washes everything away, that erases everything, that fills everything."

Breaking every cycle. But the pain… the pain will take longer to fade.

"Every time I feel the pain, I'd always remember your face. How you suffered in my hands and I always find myself knowing that the pain I'm going through was nowhere near to what you had went through. I couldn't move forward because it felt unfair-the agony I had to through was not even the slightest bit near to what you had to experience alone-and it was unfair." "Yunoh, nothing is fair in pain," she stated wisely, giving him a smile. "We do get hurt, all of us do. But we couldn't compare what I had to take to what you had to take as if we're trying to outdo each other on who's pain was not enough."

'I'll never tell you to stop loving. You see, I believe in hopeless love. Oh yes. I believe in it with all my heart, though you may discount the heart of an old lady like me. For real love brings pain. Real love means sacrifices and hurts and all the thousand shocks of life. But it also means beauty, true beauty.' ❤️❤️❤️ Beginning (Part 2) ❤️❤️❤️ Winter cried all through the night.

Pain, pain. A beautiful melody it whispers. It treats your tears as diamonds. Your sorrow is its happiness. It preys on it,feeds on it,worships it. Only if pain could feel what I feel. Hugging my knees, crouched in the bath tub I sobbed. I laughed in between my sobs. Tears stung my eyes. The scars and claw marks that run across my back and decorated my torso and arms didn't beat the pain betrayal brought.

Well there was death. Throughout history, people have created the rarest works of art in their painful moments. My art was my piano and it was taken from me. I would like to relieve my pain by running my fingers over the black and white keys, not with this burning liquid running down my throat. The most beautiful words of poetry grow green from pain, so does the sweetest melody of music. An architect turns his stones into soft art with pain. In a world where everyone could freely embrace an art, I was deprived of my art.

People usually describe pain as physical. They couldn’t be more wrong. Pain isn’t always physical. Pain is the voice in my head singing aloud my inadequacies. Pain is standing by this door and listening to my woman explain the extent of her ordeal to her best friend. Pain is not being able to do anything for her. Pain is knowing that my woman lost a part of her that she might not get back. I twist the knob separating the en-suite waiting room and her main room, crossing the room on slow and soft steps.

She was beautiful but beauty without strength in the Pack was useless. Her beauty would only be appreciated if she had strength along with it. Tearing her eyes off the beautiful image staring back at her in the mirror, she pulled her clothes off her body and walked towards the bathroom door. But as soon as she had grabbed the door handle, she felt a crackling pain in her back. Her brows pulled together and her eyes blinked severally as she tried to process what the sudden pain was about. But before she could process that, the pain had come again, hitting her even harder.

She’ll hate me. But she’ll love how I make her hate herself more. And in that space — that perfect, bleeding space between pain and pleasure — that’s where she’ll belong. Right there, in the dark, where she’s nothing but mine. Because in the end, I won’t just be the rope she clings to. I’ll be the only goddamn thing keeping her from letting go. And in the end, she’ll worship the very thing that ruined her. That’s the beauty of pain. When it’s layered just right, it becomes a goddamn religion.