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(#68) LETTER FROM AN UNKNOWN WOMAN:
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Pain makes us so self-absorbed. It's as though there were nothing else in the universe. It's all you want to talk about. It's all you think about. You become a bit of a bore. People don't want to be around old Johnny-One-Note. So you drive it down and paint it over so that nobody can see, and should the subject come up you dodge it. Hard disfiguring knot grown around, your skin puckers over the place where you hide it inside. A bit crippled, you get on with your life as well as you can, and if you're lucky, you may remember the good parts and realize that they outweigh the bad. Other people are just like you, and they hurt just as much and for the same reasons. We don't mean to hurt other people, but we do. Sometimes we realize how much we hurt them, and would like to ask their pardon, but usually it's too late. Pain-your own or someone else's-is utterly compelling. That's why it's such a good subject for art, literature and music. |