"Pain has an element of blank;It cannot recollectWhen it began, or if there wereA day when it was not.It has no future but itself,Its infinite realms containIts past, enlightened to perceiveNew periods of pain."
When Emily Dickinson wrote these lines, they may have corresponded to any of the pains i her life: the loss of her loved ones, her seclusion, or any of the days' woes. But primarily, they echo the ways of pain itself. Is life all about pain, moving from one to the other with such intensity that the good times are forgotten?
I remember my good times quite well, but lately the pain has crept up on me, attacking the life I try to lead here in Cape Town. Some nights I sleep in total peace, and some frighten me so deeply that I hide under the comforter. There really isn't even a reason to be afraid, yet when the feelings come, they are paralyzing. I wish you were here to be my comforting teddy. I miss the temporary sanity you lent me.
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