J is gone from my life. He was my best friend. We will probably never have another conversation. Even if we did, what really happened will be so mottled up that neither of us will see matters straight. How can we ever possibly sort out what is real? Once the moment is gone, memories get overlaid with other memories. Time changes conversations. It changes people. More experiences happen. Nothing is real anymore. There is just this story that we think happened sometime at some point. But what of it is really true? And how can we ever know? Stories within stories. Days, months, years pass. The story grows. I don’t know what’s real anymore. Did he say that? Did I do that? Did I allow that? Did he mean to hurt me? Did we mean to hurt each other? Why am I still hurting if I don’t even know what’s real anymore? How can any of us know? I feel my sanity slipping away. Nothing makes sense.
What do I really want here? I want J to know how much he hurt me. I want him to feel the hurt. I want him to feel the hurt he’s been through in his life. I want everyone to feel their own suffering so they can stop making others suffer. I want everyone to feel their own grief so I don’t have to feel it for them.
I don’t want to feel for other people anymore. I don’t want any more pain. I don’t want to walk into a room and have people tell me their stories, their pain, their grief. I don’t want there to be any more suffering. I want suffering to end. I want back my illusion that suffering will end. That there’s a god who cares. I want back my solution. I hate this helplessness. I hate this powerlessness I feel. To heal myself. To heal anyone else. We are all suffering. And we pass it on to our children and they onto theirs. To what end? Where does it end? I can’t make it stop. I want it to stop. All of it. I want the hurting to stop. For me. For everyone. And I can’t do it. How do I make it stop?