I'm No CS Lewis, but Two Paragraphs on Pain

People really suffer out there in the world. There are people without parents. People who are victims of violent crimes and abuse. Their are people whose homes have been obliterated by natural disasters. When I'm feeling highly depressed I think about these people. And I feel worse. Not only do I remain depressed, but now I feel guilty because I have no reason to be sad. So then I start to think about the people who have it so much better than me--those who have great sucess in their careers and love lives. Those who can buy all the chipwiches they want. I still feel sad, but feel justified in my self-pity.

To further justify my wallowing I like to make analogies. Like this one: when I stub my toe or get a paper cut, I say ouch and swear. Why? Because it hurts. In my agony I don't think about veterans who have had their legs blown off, or people with arthritis. Though they suffer exponentially more, my paper cut still hurts like a bitch, and I can't help that. I didn't invent the sensation I feel-- it friggin' hurts. Like really. And unlike a baseball bat to the head it's one of those annoying pains.

And so let me take all I have for granted.