Quiet Pain

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When I’m in pain I get quiet. Real pain though, not the kind where you get a paper cut on the bendy part of your knuckle that makes the cut reopen every god damn time you move your finger or the kind of pain that comes from your prius hatchback knocking you in the fucking head because it’s all loaded down with snow and ice bullshit, but real pain; the kind that twists your guts, takes the air from your lungs and scrapes the marrow from your bones. When I have found myself in this kind of pain my body just folds into itself, my breathing shallows and I am in a mental vs physical war. I know the pain cannot kill me and if I have taken a drug that it will take hold shortly and all I have to do is last. I keep holding on until the pain releases its dirty grip and I can start to breathe again.

For reasons I’m not quite sure of I feel that I have gone quiet mentally, pulled away from the outside world and have made myself a turtle shell. Social media always seems to be screaming and the quiet distraction of instagram feels like I’m looking at the same pictures all the time, like everyone is modeling their own lives based on the lives of others and now everyone has the same life and the same pictures and the same cool new breezy carefree adventures and outlooks. Sure darlin I want to be an adventurer too but I don’t know where the reality is in our insta world. Im hiding out man. I know that.

There are pains I just haven’t been able to free myself of yet. If I’m quiet or haven’t responded to your email or text or phone call that’s why. Well ok, let’s be honest, if you’ve called and wanted a call back you’ll be waiting forever but the other things I will get to. Winter should be over in about 8 months and the arrival of spring brings new life. Until then I’ll be here throwing things away, reading books, and as always, writing about it all.