My circumstances don’t warrant such intense pain. Yet I feel it anyway. I see people who are either clearly worse off than me, or potentially worse off than me and I shut down. Because I feel pathetic in the face of them. Because I hurt for them and I hurt for me and I can’t deal with all that pain. And I’m pathetic for feeling so much pain in the first place.
Despite being better off than say for example, a homeless guy with no family, this mass of cancerous pain eats away at me.
I hurt. A lot. And I don’t always know why, or have the best reasons when I do know why.
I just hurt. I’m hurting.
And sometimes I find myself imagining I’m the homeless guy, not through some form of empathy, though i’d love to say that it was. I’d love to say it’s all born from this empathic view of wanting to further understand their plight. But it’s not. It’s because they’re visible. By that I mean, when you see them, the circumstances, the pain, it’s visible. It’s in plain sight. The homeless guy is probably a bad example, people often ignore the homeless guy. But if people stopped for a minute, just a minute and saw, it’d be visible. When people look at me, what they see….. it isn’t pain. And they go about their day and someone asks them “have you spoken to Matt today?” And they say “yea.” And the person asks “how’s he doing?” And they reply “he’s okay” and they say it and they believe it. And behind closed doors, I’m tormented by pain I can’t even pin point reasons to, thinking the only way to end this is with a noose.