Pitfalls

Pain is relatively simple to understand, but is difficult to actually process. It can occur in several ways, and most of them....well, most of them just plain-old suck.

In my opinion, physical pain is pretty easy to deal with-- at least, common physical pain. Physical wounds tend to heal, and therefore are just "bad times" that people recall later in life. It's uncomfortable, yes, but we have ways to deal with that-- be it medicine, surgery, exercise or time. I hardly think people dwell on broken bones or cuts n' bruises, and in American culture, such would be considered weak.

It's the mental pain that really gets to me.

Mental (or emotional) pain is different, since its healing process is not up to the individual (when's the last time you heard someone say, "Ok, time to not be depressed anymore"?) Circumstances throughout someone's life become triggers for emotional pain later on-- and sometimes, the pain never goes away. It makes reminiscing those "good times" difficult. They become hard to bear. I am lucky to have encountered very little of those kinds of situations, and I could never say to someone, "Oh, I know you feel." And because I haven't experienced much, I am far more sensitive to situations than other people I know. I wouldn't call it emo, not because I don't want to live up to it, but that's not accurate enough. I'd just call it being overly sensitive-- sensy, for short, which sounds far too much like sissy and pansy than I'd like.

And it's sensy people like me that struggle to get out of pitfalls that life has plotted all around us.

I'd imagine that many people encounter pitfalls like I am right now. But it's hard to see anything in positive light when just about everything I own goes down that pitfall.

Now would be an ideal time to become a monk with no need of "worldly possessions."

And while I'm in my deep hole of self-pity and regret, I still know that....well, that not everything sucks. I still live. That's a plus. And I'm still loved.

Audience:

At some point, you come to realize that that car, and all that money, doesn't amount to anything at all. At some point in all of everyone's very, very short lives, we all hopefully come to the same conclusion that we couldn't possibly need anything more than the love that we get. And that love comes from people that we may have forgotten about, or may never want to see-- because what's the only thing that makes you feel like you have a purpose? That would be the person standing right there appreciating you for who you are, all this time, loving you despite the circumstances, no matter how much feces hits that proverbial fan.

So in summary of my continual and monotonous pity-searching: Stop. Stop it. Stop thinking that it's the end of the world. And look at love. Stare at it right in the face. Love it back.