Pain, pain
Go away
If only it meant the weather could stay
Why must you hurt me so with your shifts
And your dew
When I love you so much
Responses
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I cannot “like” your pain, or even really empathize, since I cannot imagine it, and I’m sorry for that, but really, love, should I, would you want anybody to, really, love,….try…to suffer it with you? Who should have the right to get into those little spaces in your skull and body that make everything hurt so much and dig around and cut around and try to change you so it doesn’t hurt so much, when sometimes it almost seems as if this awful tormenting pain is an essential part of your identity? I wish you could just adjust the “pain dial” to “endurable” or follow somebody’s well-meant-but-misguided-godlike advice or take some magic medication, but you got to figure this thing out for yourself.
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Of course, maybe I don’t know what I’m talking (or commenting actually) about, but I haven’t got anybody else to talk to, and if I care about you, that’s my problem, and it has nothing to do with you, but see, I decided to make myself one more person on your side for good or ill because why the fuck not?
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You don’t have to. You have enough problems as it is to deal with, and I am trying to ‘appreciate’ that. I should, someday, write a story about pain that would be readable and authentic without being horrible and excruciating at the same time. I haven’t figured out how to do it without it being attractive to sadists and monsters and repulsive to sensitive souls and children. Sadists and monsters and sensitive souls and children are all lumped together with all the rest into this category called humanity, and I am beginning not to want any part in it.
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