I believe so.
Can you promise me that there can be more than this?
This stuff is wretched. Putrid. It can not be what life is made of...but it so obviously is.
I'm not saying life is full of misery, at least not in the way a bag might be full of sand. But I do believe there is an inevitable quality to suffering. You can say that this is the nature of life, of existence. You can say that it's not the pain that defines us but what we do in the face of it. And I might be inclined to agree. But this doesn't change the fact that this life....this misery...is inescapable. And why?
Why MUST we be defined through suffering?
And I can admit that so much good can come of the whole exercise. I can admit that joy lives on the other side of despair's coin. I might even be convinced that the two are not so mutually exclusive as to exist at the expense of the other. That conceit would do more to underscore my point, however.
There are various solutions. They've been posited by various religions and spiritual traditions. Many are vastly different. More are very similar...at least at their core. I'm sure there is an answer amongst one or all of them. I'm sure the answer for each person exists in a different way.
And I'm sure the different answers are all the same.
But it still makes me angry.
It still makes me resentful.
I don't know what sin was committed in the universe that existed before this one to justify this cycle of suffering definitude.
I know it must have been big...and bad.
I know I'm sorry it happened...whether I share I share in that responsibility or not.
But I'm tired.
I'm tired of the walls.
I'm tired of the bars.
I'm tired of fighting with inmates and I'm tired of hating the warden.
I don't want to leave. I'd have no place to go.
I just want to be...
who I was...
before all this.
1 comment:
This reminds me of a wild train of thought I had in bed a few nights ago that seemed like the precursor to an anxiety attack. Seriously.
It also reminds me of one of the biggest rules of writing fiction that I'm constantly told: the story must revolve around a conflict. You can't write a story without conflict. It makes me wonder, are we that naturally drawn to conflict and pain? To the point we can't be interested or entertained by a show or movie or book unless it has suffering for us to watch? Is it really impossible to write a story with no conflict or suffering and still have it to be entertaining? And if it is impossible, does that mean we are unfulfilled without the suffering? meaning that subconsciously if it's not there in our lives we'll subtly sabotage ourselves until it appears again?
This may be too divergent from your original point, but those are the thoughts your post brought to my mind...
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