sandpaper to the hole in the soul

in this world best described as an everlasting struggle, our pain is eased by the presence of others. a great gift is that sharing misery can beget less of it. but in sharing suffering, you can gently depose the knife in front of another, or you can jab it in and twist it.

what brilliance humor brings, but its sweetly sour suffocating viscosity poorly coats the bitter pungency of true suffering. the expression genuine is a trusting disarmament, conducive to love and connection. a saccharine shell of irony conveys nothing effectively and bites at those who attempt to approach its raw center.

you are not a joke. your life is not a joke, and the people in it are not playing a joke on you. the deprecation of even yourself is an unkind act, and you and all others deserve to be treated seriously.

the greatest humor induces wonder and serendipity. the pessimist has no wonder. the theory of pessimism is that all things that presently are must be, that all is forgone. what horror! what utter horror!

in the conclusion of extensive social transactions, I can often feel tired. however, there are distinct manners in which I find I feel tired. sometimes, there is a pleasant satisfaction. however, others, I am left with ineffable dread. one can underestimate the effect they have on others. we can leave others with more than they came. but we must know that we can also spread hopelessness and, rather than filling it, take sandpaper to the hole in their soul.