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Pain. When we are born, we are born in pain. When we die, it is most likely that we die in pain. And between these two events, one thing we are guaranteed to feel often is pain.
Pain is real. Very real. To the extent that it cannot even effectively be felt in your dreams. Pain exists in a very conscious sense. It reminds us that we are alive.
This is vital to understand. As pleasure is rarely a great comfort to people who live in despair. Pleasure is an affirmative. It says to you "what you're feeling is OK". There are times in life where you need to know that it isn't "OK". Times when life itself seems to despise you. These are times when pain is the greatest comfort. When life seems like an non-stop nightmare.
But you can never let yourself believe that what you are living is a nightmare, for that lights false hopes. Hopes that you will wake up, and everything will be alright. Because you won't. In times like these, what use to you are life's simple, and very temporary joys? What you need in this state of mind isn't a release, it is a reminder. A reminder that you are alive. Something to make you know to your marrow that the air you still breath is both real and precious to you. For as long as you can still say with certainty that you are still living, you can still strive for a better life. If you let yourself believe you are dreaming, what incentive is there for improvement?
Pain. It serves so many purposes at once. Remind you that you are not dreaming, distract you from the aching of your heart, the crying of your soul and also sometimes, to help you release tears which otherwise stubbornly refuse to flow. For despair locks the mind. Holds it in a state of hopeless meaningless. Pleasure and joy cannot break the hold, so it falls to pain fight the black depths of depravation.
It is for this reason, this irresistable piece of logic, that those under depression's dark spell strive to hurt themselves. Mutilation. Cut your fingers, burn your arms, pound your broken fists against an unrelenting brick wall. Let the pain guide you. Let it release emotions otherwise kept from you by the black web of hopelessness that binds your soul.
Pain becomes life's essential truth. To fight the dark, fire must confront fire. The mind-breaking pain of emotional devastation versus the body-shattering pain of physical self-destruction. Depression feeds on the minds need for joy, for happiness. Turning it on it's head and instead striving for and embracing pain, the circle can be broken.
Or so follows the thinking. After everything has been spent breaking your knuckles on uncaring stone, searing and scything your flesh by any means available, and you lungs and throat burning from screaming against the black web, what is left? The tears flow freely, but quickly enough the void where once was your heart dictates the flow. You cry not because the pain is great, but because you know that once again it has been to no avail. And despair quickly regains its grasp over your soul.
But for a few brief minutes, you were in control. Which against the unrelenting squeeze of despite is as good as it gets, and next time you will make sure that it gets better.
Pain is real. Very real. To the extent that it cannot even effectively be felt in your dreams. Pain exists in a very conscious sense. It reminds us that we are alive.
This is vital to understand. As pleasure is rarely a great comfort to people who live in despair. Pleasure is an affirmative. It says to you "what you're feeling is OK". There are times in life where you need to know that it isn't "OK". Times when life itself seems to despise you. These are times when pain is the greatest comfort. When life seems like an non-stop nightmare.
But you can never let yourself believe that what you are living is a nightmare, for that lights false hopes. Hopes that you will wake up, and everything will be alright. Because you won't. In times like these, what use to you are life's simple, and very temporary joys? What you need in this state of mind isn't a release, it is a reminder. A reminder that you are alive. Something to make you know to your marrow that the air you still breath is both real and precious to you. For as long as you can still say with certainty that you are still living, you can still strive for a better life. If you let yourself believe you are dreaming, what incentive is there for improvement?
Pain. It serves so many purposes at once. Remind you that you are not dreaming, distract you from the aching of your heart, the crying of your soul and also sometimes, to help you release tears which otherwise stubbornly refuse to flow. For despair locks the mind. Holds it in a state of hopeless meaningless. Pleasure and joy cannot break the hold, so it falls to pain fight the black depths of depravation.
It is for this reason, this irresistable piece of logic, that those under depression's dark spell strive to hurt themselves. Mutilation. Cut your fingers, burn your arms, pound your broken fists against an unrelenting brick wall. Let the pain guide you. Let it release emotions otherwise kept from you by the black web of hopelessness that binds your soul.
Pain becomes life's essential truth. To fight the dark, fire must confront fire. The mind-breaking pain of emotional devastation versus the body-shattering pain of physical self-destruction. Depression feeds on the minds need for joy, for happiness. Turning it on it's head and instead striving for and embracing pain, the circle can be broken.
Or so follows the thinking. After everything has been spent breaking your knuckles on uncaring stone, searing and scything your flesh by any means available, and you lungs and throat burning from screaming against the black web, what is left? The tears flow freely, but quickly enough the void where once was your heart dictates the flow. You cry not because the pain is great, but because you know that once again it has been to no avail. And despair quickly regains its grasp over your soul.
But for a few brief minutes, you were in control. Which against the unrelenting squeeze of despite is as good as it gets, and next time you will make sure that it gets better.
Insane Bartender wrote:
> But for a few brief minutes, you were in control. Which against the
> unrelenting squeeze of despite is as good as it gets, and next time
> you will make sure that it gets better.
Were you? Or has the despair played you, forced you to resort to self destruction, and fooled you into believing you wanted it?
> If you let yourself
> believe you are dreaming, what incentive is there for improvement?
Sometimes it feels like a hell of a long way off, but maybe that improvement is the only real goal?
> But for a few brief minutes, you were in control. Which against the
> unrelenting squeeze of despite is as good as it gets, and next time
> you will make sure that it gets better.
Were you? Or has the despair played you, forced you to resort to self destruction, and fooled you into believing you wanted it?
> If you let yourself
> believe you are dreaming, what incentive is there for improvement?
Sometimes it feels like a hell of a long way off, but maybe that improvement is the only real goal?
Someone who suffers cronic pain might have a different view on things.
I've searched my brain for a 'relevant response', but found no matching results.
Interesting stuff. You make it sound like Pain is the real Pleasure in life. Or Pleasure is there to contrast the Pain you feel.
Or something.
Either way, it makes you think...
Or something.
Either way, it makes you think...
Pain. When we are born, we are born in pain. When we die, it is most likely that we die in pain. And between these two events, one thing we are guaranteed to feel often is pain.
Pain is real. Very real. To the extent that it cannot even effectively be felt in your dreams. Pain exists in a very conscious sense. It reminds us that we are alive.
This is vital to understand. As pleasure is rarely a great comfort to people who live in despair. Pleasure is an affirmative. It says to you "what you're feeling is OK". There are times in life where you need to know that it isn't "OK". Times when life itself seems to despise you. These are times when pain is the greatest comfort. When life seems like an non-stop nightmare.
But you can never let yourself believe that what you are living is a nightmare, for that lights false hopes. Hopes that you will wake up, and everything will be alright. Because you won't. In times like these, what use to you are life's simple, and very temporary joys? What you need in this state of mind isn't a release, it is a reminder. A reminder that you are alive. Something to make you know to your marrow that the air you still breath is both real and precious to you. For as long as you can still say with certainty that you are still living, you can still strive for a better life. If you let yourself believe you are dreaming, what incentive is there for improvement?
Pain. It serves so many purposes at once. Remind you that you are not dreaming, distract you from the aching of your heart, the crying of your soul and also sometimes, to help you release tears which otherwise stubbornly refuse to flow. For despair locks the mind. Holds it in a state of hopeless meaningless. Pleasure and joy cannot break the hold, so it falls to pain fight the black depths of depravation.
It is for this reason, this irresistable piece of logic, that those under depression's dark spell strive to hurt themselves. Mutilation. Cut your fingers, burn your arms, pound your broken fists against an unrelenting brick wall. Let the pain guide you. Let it release emotions otherwise kept from you by the black web of hopelessness that binds your soul.
Pain becomes life's essential truth. To fight the dark, fire must confront fire. The mind-breaking pain of emotional devastation versus the body-shattering pain of physical self-destruction. Depression feeds on the minds need for joy, for happiness. Turning it on it's head and instead striving for and embracing pain, the circle can be broken.
Or so follows the thinking. After everything has been spent breaking your knuckles on uncaring stone, searing and scything your flesh by any means available, and you lungs and throat burning from screaming against the black web, what is left? The tears flow freely, but quickly enough the void where once was your heart dictates the flow. You cry not because the pain is great, but because you know that once again it has been to no avail. And despair quickly regains its grasp over your soul.
But for a few brief minutes, you were in control. Which against the unrelenting squeeze of despite is as good as it gets, and next time you will make sure that it gets better.
Pain is real. Very real. To the extent that it cannot even effectively be felt in your dreams. Pain exists in a very conscious sense. It reminds us that we are alive.
This is vital to understand. As pleasure is rarely a great comfort to people who live in despair. Pleasure is an affirmative. It says to you "what you're feeling is OK". There are times in life where you need to know that it isn't "OK". Times when life itself seems to despise you. These are times when pain is the greatest comfort. When life seems like an non-stop nightmare.
But you can never let yourself believe that what you are living is a nightmare, for that lights false hopes. Hopes that you will wake up, and everything will be alright. Because you won't. In times like these, what use to you are life's simple, and very temporary joys? What you need in this state of mind isn't a release, it is a reminder. A reminder that you are alive. Something to make you know to your marrow that the air you still breath is both real and precious to you. For as long as you can still say with certainty that you are still living, you can still strive for a better life. If you let yourself believe you are dreaming, what incentive is there for improvement?
Pain. It serves so many purposes at once. Remind you that you are not dreaming, distract you from the aching of your heart, the crying of your soul and also sometimes, to help you release tears which otherwise stubbornly refuse to flow. For despair locks the mind. Holds it in a state of hopeless meaningless. Pleasure and joy cannot break the hold, so it falls to pain fight the black depths of depravation.
It is for this reason, this irresistable piece of logic, that those under depression's dark spell strive to hurt themselves. Mutilation. Cut your fingers, burn your arms, pound your broken fists against an unrelenting brick wall. Let the pain guide you. Let it release emotions otherwise kept from you by the black web of hopelessness that binds your soul.
Pain becomes life's essential truth. To fight the dark, fire must confront fire. The mind-breaking pain of emotional devastation versus the body-shattering pain of physical self-destruction. Depression feeds on the minds need for joy, for happiness. Turning it on it's head and instead striving for and embracing pain, the circle can be broken.
Or so follows the thinking. After everything has been spent breaking your knuckles on uncaring stone, searing and scything your flesh by any means available, and you lungs and throat burning from screaming against the black web, what is left? The tears flow freely, but quickly enough the void where once was your heart dictates the flow. You cry not because the pain is great, but because you know that once again it has been to no avail. And despair quickly regains its grasp over your soul.
But for a few brief minutes, you were in control. Which against the unrelenting squeeze of despite is as good as it gets, and next time you will make sure that it gets better.