A friend of mine had been confiding to me about her outburst of pain, that finally came after a long delay. It had been a good two weeks since her breakup that had been as swift as it was sudden.
Consoling her, I remember most vividly what she had said.
“I don’t want to stop feeling.”
I assured her that she wouldn’t, but also felt like the biggest hypocrite. How could I promise her something I found difficult to do myself?
In all of my growing up, I’d put everybody else’s needs and feelings before mine. I attend to every whim, every outburst, every desire unless it is my own.
At first it is frustrating, expecting others to give in return the consideration you’ve given them, but coming out short. But it is strange how it can have a numbing effect on you. After a while, you naturally learn to cast aside your gripes, sublimating and snuffing them out with excuses that probably would not hold up under scrutiny.
And that’s real shitty.
Because every now and then, a fleeting bout of emotions comes popping out in a revelatory bubble of despair and depression. And when it does it sucks the air out room, leaving everyone gasping in confusion.
I’m guessing that’s how my friend felt too. She got hit so hard, that she had to stop the car and let out her cry.
In the end I told her to stand up for herself. To feel the most searing of pains, as well the most blissful of joys.
And to be an asshole when you need to.
