Yes, it hurts. With every step, with every sole press on the ground I dive into this love-hate relationship with my body physics. I’ve gone through most of the pains and I’ve learned to love them each. It’s strange how you get to bless the pain as it makes you feel more alive. Mostly the joints, they hurt and you rarely do without, just like heart-beating. Bloody toes and bruised nails, those come with the package, too. And yet, you wouldn’t have any other way – would you?
Breathe, beautiful one. Let it flow, swirl, blend and spark. There’s nothing more real, not even close in terms of presence. To crave for pain in order to be. Like a very bitter, but fortifying medicine. I live by it. In spite of it. For it. It is all over. It is me. Too painful not to be real. So let it be real.
They say I’m nuts – I double that, I’m insane. It’s a thin line and I just might have crossed it. But I’d give all past moments of pleasure for any future moment of grief if that’s what it takes to feel. If that’s the toll of another step in front of the other, in an endless, steady pace. It’s the physical torment that makes it all worth the time, energy and wear. Sounds crazy? Maybe, but there are more absurd things in life than driving your body to such a degree of exhaustion that the only relief is that freeing pain.
Some call it chemistry, some call it nonsense. I’d prefer to see it just another way of burning all frustrations and meaningless cares, of melting all the suppressed feelings into one shapeless idol before puffing it into thin air. Sore ankles, cramping calves, rusty knees, spring-tense guts, grasping throat, dizzy head – but here goes another step, and another, and another. To push the cage bars just one feet further, just one more mile into a forged freedom. But it’s my freedom and I’ll fight my body for it down to the last ounce of pain.
And there will be a last step past the line, and I’ll throw myself at their feet – those who can’t conceive such anguish, and I’ll kiss the ground a thousand kisses. I’ll then be on my feet again and take it from it where has been left off. Just one more step of pain – just one more step of happiness.
Yes, it hurts too be alive. Some could never feel this past the comfort of their own death, for only death is devoid of all anguish. I choose the pain as my existence depends on it, and the more I detest it the more in love I am with it. The pain is real, but the end of it will be the end of me. Until then, let my body face all the hurt it can take – for it will take it well. One more step, one more bloody toe, one more clenched fist. And life.
(24 dec 2012)