Humans are emotionally masochistic beings. I know it’s a bit of a generalization, but still…We like pain. Hey, if we truly didn’t, we wouldn’t complicate our lives as much, we wouldn’t bring pain onto ourselves and we wouldn’t simply sit there and take it when others inflicted pain on us.

Still, there’s another side to this story about pain. Sometimes, pain is good. Pain can be beneficial from time to time. It reminds us that we’re alive, not just drifting from one day to the other. Pain proves that we are capable of deeper emotions than the sometimes artificially induced joy that we experience and show each and every day, each and every second. It’s easy to lose ourselves in somewhat superficial emotions and forget about the real ones, the ones that lift us to the clouds and that throw us in the pits of hell.

Sometimes, when we get tired of running away from the “real thing”, when we’ve had enough of short-lived periods of moderate joy, we turn to pain to make sure we’re still truly human and still truly alive. Some watch movies, some read books, some look through photos taken a long time ago, some make use of music to get them to that place where the pain’s been buried.

I have some personal preferences also. Music is alright most times, but the songs that can actually do the job vary too amply from situation to situation, so I sometimes don’t have the patience to trace them down in my very long and diverse playlist. I try to avoid photos. I find that they bring out a much too raw kind of pain and after a while I simply don’t want to revisit that “punch-in-the-stomach” type of pain, it’s too draining. So I go back to my long-time friend, my passion – my poems. The impact is more bearable, the feelings expressed and prompted by these words are sublimated – just enough to remind me of what was, of the scars that were left to heal by themselves and of what could maybe once again be.

Tonight, I’m revisiting pain. It’s been long overdue.