There are things we can control and
there are the things we can’t.
Then there are the few in between that we have a slight grasp on,
enough to sway judgement but not enough to completely turn.
These are the worst.
For we have say in how we act upon them, and how we react upon others,
but we have no control on them themselves.
What torture. Not so much for our own…but the others.
What torture it is to not have the ones we love love us back.
What torture it is to watch a loved one suffer.
What torture…to not physically be able to grab happiness out of our own gut
and shove into another and make them swallow it down until their misery
is shitted out and replace by warming sunshine that makes them realize
reason to carry on.
What torture it is to not be able to make someone feel how appreciated they are,
to make them feel accepted,
to make them feel loved.
Love itself is torture. Happiness it’s’ hype-man.
Someone once told me that love and happiness are states in which one cannot stay in.
These are not constants. These are not guarantees. That life is supposed to be a constant of contentment, and the rest comes and varies. We have our lows. The hate. The Sorrow. The misery. We have our ups. The love. The happiness. The excitement. But these are not things that can stay. The good nor the bad.
I think how sad in itself that is. That we cannot strive for a higher state of being to clutch onto at the end of our days. That “contentment” is all we have to work for.
I’m not sure where I stand on all of this.
I do know that most days, it’s hard enough to just exist.
I wonder if existing is the contentment he was referring to.
If so…well…what torture it is to feel.