27th Aug2011

Pain is good

by Dutchcloggie

My pain is my last link to her, so as much as it hurts, I wrap it around me like a blanket, like a teenaged girl cutting jagged lines on her inner thigh with a razor blade, inflicting hurt on myself because I need to feel something. I’m not ready for time to heal this wound, but I also know I’m powerless to stop it. And knowing that makes me fight harder than ever to hold on to the pain and anchor myself in this tragedy while it’s still freshly tragic.

So every so often I pull at my scabs like a dog, desperately trying to draw some fresh blood from my open wound, but even as I do it, I know the day will come when I pull off that scab and there’s no blood underneath it, just he soft pink expanse of virgin skin. And when that finally happens, when time has inevitably had its way with me, then I’ll know she’s gone for good.

Jonathan Tropper – How to talk to a widower

This is exactly it. This is the reason why I actively seek out thns that upset me. It connects me to Jane. An hour of tears is still better than an hour of nothingness.

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