Thursday, November 23, 2023

The politics of pain

 Amid great distraction in which survival could not be, the deafening white noise that I hate, shields me from what lies underneath.  The pendulum of merciless competition swings back the other way tearing me into the reality that in the politics of pain, I am losing.

Like the frog boiled slowly in the pot of water, a flash of recollection shocks me into a realization that this is not where I was, and not where I should be. Is there any way out? The masters who claim to know, full of knowledge that is only invented by bending chemical reactions into statistically elected outcomes of indentured servitude, compromise, and ultimately, slavery.  These masters, preaching from the mountain of their college loans that they will die upon do not know me and in many ways, do not know much.

The pain is growing, exacting a retroactive vengeance upon me that I can now almost feel in my past. Talk about fighting dirty. My rage has acted as a shield for so many years, but it is being worn away and replaced with exhaustion.  The amount of anger that it takes to push past the gauntlet of pain and now exhaustion too is almost unachievable. 

Like being trapped in a room with limited oxygen, I am panicking to come up with clever solutions for my escape knowing that later, my mental faculty will diminish. The pain is rewiring my brain and I worry about the person I am later on. The fight continues and I fight to hold the ground which is what I am made of.  Pieces of me get lost in the battle, I remember them but know they are not coming back.

Do not misunderstand though, I know that beyond what I know, there is more tenacity in me than I have ever experienced.  The level of fight remains yet to be seen. I know that somewhere there could be a limit, but I refuse to give up and float into that oblivion.  I have always known, I go down with the ship.