They really were the perfect couple. Just not officially betrothed. Together they wreaked more havoc than their four horsemen brethren. Misery was the body blow. Torment was the head shot. With no more to give, and realizing no more could be taken they found the door.
Even when Misery and Torment flipped the bird and flipped off the light, that empty windowless room wasn’t completely devoid of light. It just seemed so.
Bleeding out in darkness is good. You can’t see the size of the wounds. You can’t even see how big the puddles of fluid are. You can just lay there and ooze. You can just wallow and lie. Replay lies. The darkness is a good place to feel sorry for yourself. No one can see the sorry excuse you’ve become.
You let Misery and Torment in. You can only blame yourself for letting them stay so long. Funny thing is how they blame you for having nothing left to give. Funnier thing is that Misery and Torment were happiest finding the door on their own. Guess there was a sense of victory surveying the carnage wrought.
The bleeding stops. The real pain ends. It’s the phantom pain that hangs on. The imagination, and replaying of all those lies keeps the pain feeling real. There’s medication for that. The darkness is the best place to medicate too. No one else knows your prescription. No one else controls your dose. In the darkness no one sees the emptiness. In the darkness you can’t see through the emptiness. You can only feel it. Enough medication eventually removes that feeling too.
Misery and Torment didn’t chain and padlock the door. Only closed it. Not quite airtight. You can still breath. Barely. Bottom isn’t a soft landing. Eventually the hardness forces you to face the door. It’s allowing yourself the will to grope around in the darkness. It’s about getting a handle. Strain and you’ll even see a sliver of light. Even in complete incoherence, faith has potentiality.
Wallowing is weak. Blind faith in others is weaker. Having no will to power yourself is the weakest. This space offers two choices. Dark or light. Bottom isn’t middle ground. No shades of grey for mental camouflage. Gripped by misery and torment, or the embrace of faith and will. Choose. Them or You.
Stand up, move forward or wallow and stay fetal. The light burns at first, but bottom sores fester and rot. Misery and Torment thrive in rotting knowledge. Misery and Torment are my ex’s; spouse and a business co-founder. They’re excuses.
The ex’s are out, it took some time wallowing before quitting on the excuses. I finally quit on them. The perfect couple now occupy their own perfectly cruel place.
Excuse free. In clarity. Clarity drives purpose of decisions. Purpose with clarity gives meaning. With weightless purpose now moving effortlessly through the dark, the light, the grey, Misery and Torment free. No fear, only faith and will. Goodness, Meaning, Happiness.