Pain

Pain.... That's what most people say they see when they look into my eyes. I am both surprised and disappointed. How would one define pain? Can pain be felt in such a manner that it can blot out every other feeling? Can pain hide love? What is pain exactly? Is it felt differently by different people and creatures... or is it the one and all-encompassing emotion for everyone?

I cry most of the times. I end up curling up into a ball and weeping. Weeping, weeping and just weeping. With no one to see me or hear me. With no one who gives a damn about what might be the reason for my distress. Depression is my favourite pal now. It's always there to enfold me in its gentle embrace. I hug my knees and cry my heart out. After a while, I do feel better. Crying opens up all those floodgates in my heart and brain which I might have been subduing from a long time. The tears cannot stop once they have started. They flow and flow and flow until my eyes dry out from the lack of them. The medium of expressing my grief dries up and vanishes...but the pain lingers on and on. It remains, never to disappear, never to leave me alone, never to give me a moment of peace when I can confront all the ghosts of my past and put them to rest. Pain and me are inseperable. I cannot think of a day without it, in some form or the other. Ironically, the thing that brings me so much heartache and heartburn also brings me relief. It is cathartic. It cleanses my heart and soul. I cry by myself, and I do not want anyone with me. No one to lend me their shoulder or a handkerchief. I'll do just fine. By myself. Existence is solitary and pain is always present, not on the surface, but always beneath it, simmering away only to bubble over in spurts of everyday misery and gloom and agony.