If no words to express pain were ever written and no painful sound was ever heard again, then time will delete it from my memory. If no vibration occurred, if I keep them hidden and try to think of something else, the universe itself won’t be aware that my pain is there waiting to burst, burning and breaking everything apart.
Maybe it doesn’t exist. Maybe pain is just in my head. Pain is just a big amount of energy under high pressure or maybe it’s nothing. I will stop talking about it. The pain must not come into existence, it must vanish and dissipate. I will not scream, I will sigh instead and this will only cause a mild wind. This wind is good. It will break my pain into particles so small that no one will ever be able to notice them and figure out the whole, not even me.
Because pain is smoke. I am not the only one smoking. We are so many in this dark basement and there’s smoke all around. We could get out, but smoke got us high. And high is better than down…isn’t it?