I am Addicted to Suffering

2 and a half weeks into the grand break up, I conclude that I am addicted to suffering.

I caught myself pondering whether he was suffering even the teeniest tiniest bit.

Maybe not. What if the answer is “no”. What if the answer is indifference?

This is the way life actually works. In real life. Not Holly/Bollywood. Just as I do what I do because I have my motivation for it and then face whatever music plays as a result of it, so will he. And I am beginning to realise that people have vastly different emotional reactions to the same event.

A friend who is cold and cut-throat ( why we are friends is another story) told me that he feels very little. That he detaches quickly. His answer was revealing to me. The emotional states that we each go through are unique, and valid. Some of us are softer and more emotional. And suffering arises when we put the validation of ourselves on another person’s emotional reaction to us.

In fact. It is completely, utterly ridiculous to base one’s emotional state on the level of yearning or missing that someone else — one person out of the 7 billion on this earth — has of us.

Completely Utterly Ridiculous.

So Yeah. He can keep his delicate precious lily penis. It’s time for me to move on. I do wonder what the sense of all these nonsensical experiences will amount to. A stand up comedy about penises one day perhaps…