I was Skyping Sham the other day, and we got talking about our respective losses, and the residual pain we’re left with. The salient differences are that Sham was brought down by an inconsistent and non-committal woman, me, by the love for a man I could not have, and the drugs I used to lure him in, and the subsequent wreckage I left in place of our lives. The similarities are the very real, tangible and gut-wrenching ache, deep in our souls, and that makes us brothers, as we navigate the river of time, in search of a port free from the storms that rage in our minds.
The conversation turned to time, that gauche cliché and the fervent hope that, given enough time, the pain would cease. Well, I know it will, of course, and in time, I will smile, and smile sincerely – but here’s the thing: time does NOT heal the wound, it merely gives the distance needed and the numbness required to build a callous, just like the thorn-pricked heel, the always-stubbed toe, the much-chewed nail become hardened to the bite, the pain and the cut that bruises the soul.
Time’s no friend, because one thing we’re assured of, short of death, is time. So, by doing nothing to alleviate the pain, by not solving the cause of our terrible ache, our monumental agony is reduced by distance on the timeline, the perspective of history and the tiring out of our emotions as we replay the trauma over and over in our minds.
Time’s a great callous giver; a fantastic hardener of the heart, a superb method of diluting the senses. Time’s a liar, so don’t believe the hype, the pain’s still there, just buried deep, and though you may smile, in time, the pain looks out from behind your eyes.
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