I couldn’t agree more with what Dylan said in this post. Sometimes when we get hurt–hurt so bad that nothing else matters–we are ready to do anything to find the reason as to why it happened to us. Which sucks, by the way.
I mean, aren’t there enough issues to worry about than to hunt for answers about stuff that hurts us to the core, even when we think about it?
True, our minds DO comprehend different meanings of the circumstances around us to trick us into believing that come what may, life doesn’t stop. And somewhere down the line, we might just stumble upon happiness.
If we’re lucky enough.
It’s funny what I’ll do to know the truth of some things. And scratch that, it’s not funny. Torturous, rather. It’s borderline insane.
Something happened to me, see, and what happened to me hurt and I didn’t know why. I never exactly got a straight answer. But it hurt, and I hadn’t hurt like that before because I’d never been foolish enough to allow myself to be hurt like that before. So it hurt pretty bad. Like, a drunk man falling and hitting his head and bleeding out but not blacking out, that kind of hurt. And I never really got a straight answer as to why.
I never got a straight answer because that answer would’ve hurt more. But curiosity killed the cat, and, though I despise all felines, I was a cat fulfilling my curiosity. So I hunted out the truth – I tried hard to rid myself…
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