Pleasure and Pain

I have developed a strange desire.
I beg your pardon for taking such a liking to masochism, but these sandpaper times have worn me down and refined me. I welcome their sting, in truth I crave it. The sweat off my brow has left a thirst for ambition’s sweet nectar. Through the burn of chaffing the oasis of humility flourishes in me. Through their callousness, my heart grows the more callous. My body made impermeable to doubt.
I do what I must to cope with the hurt, but my God I am refined. The pain and I are fire to glass, and I will not be a common grain of sand.
I wanted better, so I had to become it. The potion of progress sustained me just enough each day for me to carry on until tomorrow.
I found a way to love all the shit that has come my way, by seeing past it. It was all and is all necessary. I always knew that, but I`d only see it when it was too late. We mustn’t be so naïve. To know pleasure is to first know pain.
Pain. I see you coming up the stairs and open my door to invite you in.
We sit at my dinner table and toast to these rough times. Without you I wouldn’t be here.


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