Pain is a relative thing. I am capable of enduring levels of pain others might find excruciating, but this is more a matter of long experience rather than some innate superiority on my part. After all, pain is generally a warning sign of illness or injury, and I am proof against such things.

That said the pain is nearly unbearable. It is a pressure against my temper and rationality, eruptions of crippling fire that leave me weak and trembling upon their passing. It ends with a trip to the toilet, then the raging hunger comes again and the cycle repeats until exhaustion brings merciful respite in unconsciousness.

I apologize for my reticence, but I am still uncertain what to do. The recent events in Denver coupled with my injuries have left me unbalanced unto madness and the urge to simply flee is hard upon me. Once again this morning I nearly succumbed to the urge to destroy this journal yet I stayed my hand again. While typing is difficult and painfully slow I do find that somehow it soothes me, if only a little. At the moment I am in need of whatever soothing I might find.

Then there is the pain of my soul. It did not go well with my friends. The one has died and the other, overcome with grief and loss, became so angry with me I thought he might never forgive me. Perhaps he should not, but he did, and in doing so he made so very clear to me the guilt he feels- he believes my current circumstance to be his responsibility. To my dear friend I can say only this- it could have been any intersection, in any city, on any night. It seems it would be inevitable, given enough time, and we both know the truth of that, do we not? Mourn your wife, as I mourn for you, and think not of my troubles. They are transitory and I shall emerge whole once again. You are one of a dwindling group of friends who know me as I am and care for me for who I am. I do not believe I can ever repay that debt.

And now there is… another.

How shall I describe him? A friend? There is potential although in all honesty he is not one I normally would have considered. We have been thrust together he and I, by an impulsive act born of desperation. I knew of him through his public persona and upon our meeting I was pleased to find the public face a fair reflection of the inner man. Circumstances have forced me to act in moments upon notions I should have taken decades to plan. My history with such things is somewhat less than encouraging.

He is annoying. That seems a good sign.

Posted on December 10th, 2004 by Zsallia
Filed under: The Present