Pain is an unwarranted arrest to the human mind. It is uncalled for, and nearly always undeserved; at least to ourselves. It’s a particularly nasty wave (that intrudes into the aromatic cavity and ruins a perfectly enjoyable breezy spring morning spent jumping the waves) that we, perhaps, never take in the spirit of the game.
We are all wallowing in varying depths of sadism; Pain- even more so. It feeds on our despair and squirms at our defence. It is common knowledge that Pain calls on the unwelcome doors of those who scurry at its mention and flees from those who dare to challenge it to battle; but does it return the love of those who love it?
Does it acknowledge the intrepidity of a precious few by rewarding them or does it go about in its precocious strides, making its existence the reason for our penchant towards it?
Can Pain be cruel? After all, it has healing powers. It heals wounds, while inflicting deeper ones.
It’s paradoxical how self-harm becomes self-help. Twisted, but enchanting.
Amidst our varied degrees of emotional penury, we miss out on the ensnaring beauty of Pain. I wonder if that unfortunate certitude is Pain’s vindication to be undesirable. Perhaps it scathes us, because it lacks love. Perhaps, injury is the physical manifestation of Pain’s fierce desire to avenge its insult. Perhaps, a steamy affair with it will reduce its burning to arbitrate in our lives; or better still, vanish our fear of Pain, and coerce us to invite it to dinner each night.
Perhaps, Pain is not a bad guy, after all.