Pain, you just have to ride it out, hope it goes away on its own, hope the wound that caused it heals. There are no solutions, no easy answers, you just breath deep and wait for it to subside. Most of the time pain can be managed but sometimes the pain gets you where you least expect it. Hits way below the belt and doesn't let up. Pain, you just have to fight through, because the truth is you can't outrun it and life always makes more.

Maybe we like the pain. Maybe we're wired that way. Because without it, I don't know; maybe we just wouldn't feel real enough. What's that saying?

"Why do I keep hitting myself with a hammer?"

"Because it feels so good when I stop."



Denial.

Sometimes reality has a way of sneaking up and biting us in the ass. And when the dam bursts, all you can do is swim. The world of pretend is a cage, not a cocoon. We can only lie to ourselves for so long. We are tired, we are scared, denying it doesn't change the truth. Sooner or later we have to put aside our denial and face the world. Head on, guns blazing. "De Nile". It's not just a river in Egypt, it's a freakin' ocean. So how do you keep from drowning in it?

The fantasy is simple. Pleasure is good. And twice as much pleasure is better. That pain is bad. And no pain is better. But the reality is different. The reality is that pain is there to tell us something. And there is only so much pleasure we can take without getting a stomachache. And maybe that's okay. Maybe some fantasies are only supposed to live in our dreams.


At the end of the day, when it comes down to it, all we really want is to be close to somebody. So this thing, where we all keep our distance and pretend not to care about each other, is usually a load of bull. So we pick and choose who we want to remain close to, and once we've chosen those people, we tend to stick close by. No matter how much we hurt them, the people that are still with you at the end of the day - those are the ones worth keeping. And sure, sometimes close can be too close. But sometimes, that invasion of personal space, it can be exactly what you need.


And you don't get to call me a jerk. When I met you, I thought I had met the person I would spend the rest of my life with. I was done. So all the flings, and all the bars, booze and clubs, and all the obvious crappy-life issues... who cared? Because I was done. You left me! You chose him! I'm all glued back together now. I make no apologies for how I chose to repair what you broke. You don't get to call me a jerk!

Wednesday, July 08, 2009