Love of Suffering

I always think of all of these great things I could write about during the day, but the problem is I never etch them down on anything, so when it comes time to write at night, I've got nothing left. We'll see if it works its way out while I type.

I woke up early this morning so I could get a head start at the office. It wasn't that hard. I must have slept pretty well. But in all of that time of getting up and getting ready, I never felt like I was about to go out the door and face a Monday. I didn't think of today as Monday, just another day. I think if days of the week didn't have names, I would be a lot better off in my morale. I'm learning to sort through life. I can be complicated just figuring out where money comes from, where it goes, and why I find myself thinking about it so much. I envy the people who can just sit back in faith and legitimately not worry about that kind of stuff. To say "It'll just happen" and seriously mean it is a level of faith that intimidates me. I'm trying to be cautious about what worries me. I express my stress on these pages often, but solutions aren't really my focus. It's all about the suffering. I feel like I can say that because I know I'm not the only one who has a twisted attraction to suffering. There are plenty of us out there, especially here in America. It makes us feel real and it sedates the mundane sensation of every-day-life.

I don't know why it is so important for the human psyche to have others feel sorry for them. At the very root of it, a pity party manifests in us because we want attention. Why would I ever question why? Of course I know the reason. We need other people, and we need to know that they're thinking about us and that they are concerned for us. We can have the whole world in our pockets, but if that one person we admire doesn't pay attention to us, we find ways to focus on our suffering so that we can derive comfort from those around us. In effect, we're an army of people starving for affection, love, beyond that, the manifestation of a personal and perfect love.

That's how it tends to start out at least, and it varies with age. We want that love. But it gets more complicated. We end up just wanting that feeling that makes us feel expectant of love, and it backs in farther. Eventually we just end up suffering all the time, expecting to, needing to.

I took an hour break between writing those two paragraphs. Now I'm totally not in the mood to write anymore. Peace and love.