An Epiphany

We hardly ever realise it. And I've only registered it recently. But this pain, this grief, this hatred of ourselves- We like it. Every single, last, pitying one of us. We enjoy it. We savour it. It holds us where we feel safe. Where we are comforted by our own feelings. We know that without this, we would be empty. We don't think of it, but somewhere, somewhere in the deepest, darkest pit of our hearts, we cannot deny it.


None of us would know what we are without our pain. We'd be lost. It identifies us. It keeps us. Cold nights are made colder by it, by also lighter. Without it, there would be nothing. And that would be worse.


We wish we could erase it; change it; wish it away. But what would we replace it with? It needs replacing with something, lest it leave a gaping hole- a wound far greater than the one it caused. If it was not for the pain, something else would be there. Something struggling to fill the deserted canyon, but never quite filling it in the same way.


This pain is balanced with other things- Everything has its equation; its opposite and equal. Pain can be balance with compassion, love, caring. Often, these are what causes the pain. You cannot have one without the other. You would not want one without the other. That would be more than unbearable- that would drive us to madness.


Love without pain- how pointless.


Compassion without a cause- a waste.


Compassion is a good one. Compassion is caused by someone else's pain. Someone else's loss; someone else's Achilles' Heel.


Without pain, good thing would be lost. We would not know how to enjoy things, because we would not know what it is like not to enjoy things.






Pain holds us where we are. It holds us up, down, inside out. Wherever. But it is necessary to appreciate everything.