Delusion and Readiness

To bring another heartache,
another hurtful memory,
another long, long, long, suffering,
     another letdown, another strife,
     another death into my life.
Can I comprehend the endless pain
     that will devour the world
     as you walk with the wind
off this planet of stinging rain?
Will I falter at the sound of swans
     gargling fake pond water,
     eyes glazed, fixed on nothing,
beauty reshaped into gods of bronze?
This soul has seen the deepest black,
     heard the loudest roar,
felt the roughest wrack.
This soul has smelled the foulest stench,
     tasted the tartest food,
discerned the coming drench.
There must be a reason
     we still exist.
There must be a reason
     love still persists.
Am I ready to combat logic?
Rationality leads to states ironic.
     Death makes sense in life sublime:
     No one’s ready when it’s time.

Vicious Cycle

If you want to know happiness, you have to be willing to know pain. That’s all that makes sense in this world, pain. It drives and motivates and goes on and on and on. Until it ends, of course. There’s no escaping pain. People run and hide from it; do they not realize it is just waiting to devour, that it is unavoidable?

I learned that the hard way. I continue to learn it. I will never learn. Learn, never.

The most tolerant people you meet have experienced the greatest amount of misery. People who whine and moan about the most mundane things in life are those that have never experienced real pain. They will, but they haven’t, yet. Someone that has endured and survived a holocaust doesn’t complain about a wrong order at the fast food restaurant.

My life has been so hard, the pain so real. I need to learn to trust my own words.

The cost of happiness is pain. That’s what war is: pain for happiness. Suffering for comfort. Everyone endures their own personal war, and people need to realize that none suffers greater than anyone else.

God, how I have learned this. I know already. I can’t help it. Why am I here? Because, you’re losing the war.

If this all sounds so bleak, just remember that it is a truth that has been in existence since the beginning. Abel pursued his happiness, as did Cain. The person that can accept the pain as a fact is a person who can then experience happiness. To experience happiness is to be human.

This IV is killing me. These pills are killing me. This bed is killing me. This world is killing me.

What you need to realize, son, is that I will not be here for very long. You need to move on, before it’s too late. You need to accept the pain as fact; but to more importantly move the hell on. How can you be happy when you trap yourself in a self-induced prison? Trust me, I’ve been trapped in my own god-forsaken prison since childhood. It’s a life of raw rending insanity. Trust me.

You fucking hypocrite. Do you think just saying the words will save your ass now? Your son is as pathetic as you are; actually, more so. Quit it with the pain and happiness bullshit, he’s not even listening anymore. You sure as shit don’t believe it.

Are you hearing me, son? Do you understand me? I fight internally, hourly, and I have avoided the pain for so long. I’m ready to be happy. I want to be happy. Nothing will make me happier than knowing you will be ok. I want the pain. The real pain, not the fake pain I do to myself, but the truthful pain. Please, son, take my hand.

Just stop! Stop stop stop!

Don’t be scared Mijo, I have not been more at peace then I am now. I think I deserve the happiness, don’t you? Please, don’t cry.

Look at him, he is so distraught. Do you want to do that to him? Come back, you don’t deserve it, and you know it. Think of all the horrible things you have done. Why should you get to dwell in happiness? Just come back, get better, and we’ll escape the pain for a bit more longer.

Ok.