I’ve been crying for two hours. My right foot is numb because moving it would mean causing me more pain. I’ve taken over my limit of pain relief. I can’t find solitude.
What drives us to persevere through pain? Maybe it’s the thought of a loved one, but I’m too selfish for that. I recognise that my pain sometimes obstructs me from forming trusting relationships. I get suspicious of people who are not concerned of my physical health. I guess I’m narcissistic. My thoughts become so incoherent I cannot even interact with my own thoughts, let alone the thoughts of others. And yet, some days, I find familiarity in words that allure to the cynicism of my own.
Knowing that others are in the same kind of pain as me does not bring me comfort. It is easy to be in pain. What is not easy is silencing the thoughts that come with it. The thoughts seem irrational to the outsiders, to the people who refuse to take paracetamol because they “don’t want to become immune.” But we think of overdosing. We think of mutilation. We want to self-destruct.
The next time I cannot silence the thoughts, I will entertain them. They are rational to me, but they are unhelpful.
Being in pain is easy, but expressing it is so damn hard.