No, I f——g didn't. But I did see this:
which reminded me of this:
A Poem about Pain
I can feel myself slipping away, fading away, withdrawing from this life, just as my father did. When the pain you're in is so great you can’t think about or pay attention to anything
but your own pain, the rest of the world and all other life
don't matter.
I think about my friends with dementia, cancer, arthritis, and
how much more pain they are in than I am, but it does no good,
their pain is not mine, and therefore, no matter how magnanimous I might want to be, their pain is not as important to me as my own.
What's the Connection, Britta?
I feel pain. I talk about it, write about it. Mine is mostly mental health-type pain. And if I say things to my family, in particular, like "I've been taking note of the dead trees lately and appreciate them more than I did before spring. The live one's are so green" there's a long pause and then "Well, that's sad."
Those electrical wires are connected, but the poles are aging and could snap in a storm.
How is that sad? It's just life.
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