Pain

Pain. I used to welcome it, when I bothered to feel it at all. Now, I run from it, but I can’t run fast enough. I never ran that fast. Now, I run very slow.

Me, I am a common man. I am of common stock and intelligence. I pretended to be smart to stay alive and stay out of the fast food kitchen, but I am not especially smart. However, I don’t feel especially like going back to being immersed in sports and conspiracy talk radio. And so, I approach cultured elitist things as if they were things like NASCAR and bowling. I walk through museums and consume fine art as if it were a fine cheeseburger.

I don’t fear dying as much as I used to after I became very palpably aware of my own mortality. But I do worry that my life will end before I have finished all of the books, travel and helping others I want to accomplish. I wonder what it would be like to be reincarnated. Surely the world will be very different–assuming reincarnation happens linearly timewise within this same spacetime continuum. At any rate, I don’t like the idea of seeing all of my memory wiped, even if I get it back in the next bardo. I will never understand what it’s like to be an atheist.

I don’t understand most people, anyway.

I don’t get people who like Donald Trump, but I didn’t fully understand the infatuation with Obama, either, yet I voted for him both times. He seemed to be the lesser of the two unsavory characters. I suppose a president needn’t be savory, like a well-made pot roast, but does he or she need to be bitter and foul?

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