The pain cuts through her like something known before.. inherently. I do not know their suffering but it engulfs her in a manner suffocating. She cannot shed this experience and so she smiles on the exterior while battling with the dull realization of pain like this.

How can I then go on to live my life knowing pain like this?

Did it ever go away for them or do they live with their suffering carrying it around like a nice little domesticated creature. Does it overwhelm them sometimes?

It hurts. In a very strange dull manner,  like a heavy stone laying on her chest for hours. It is piercing  sometimes when she sees the pain right in front of her.. in a drunken old man by a shack at 10am still trying to drink some more. Maybe he’ll leave soon but she knows that no one will come get him. He has no one. At ten o’clock on a tuesday morning, he is there, outside a wooden shack in a small shanty town that’s hidden below a beautiful upcoming suburb. He’ll find a way to stagger to his own wooden shack in the early morning hours but for now, he lays there, ethanol on his breath, poison in his blood and completely numb to the bleeding wound on his foot. He thinks it is better to not feel.

As she wakes up, she hates herself for what she did the night before and what she is about to do again that same evening. She appears to be a great person but she can’t explain why she takes her clothes off for huddles of awe struck men. She cannot explain that there is a choice and she could be else where because that is all too complicated. It is better to blame it on some system gone wrong somewhere than to admit that she is violating and degrading herself in the worst of ways.  She leans over and shakes ‘it’ in a bored but fervent enough manner for her audience to throw bills at her girating body. She will wake up tomorrow and feel worthless and void but one look at her designer heels and purses and she’ll be back at it that evening.

I can’t contain myself in such cases. I can’t not become a pot of raging emotions boiling into furious tears. Maybe things are hard for these people but what are the rest of doing in watching them? Why won’t we reach out and suggest some other options… ones that might ease their pain and show them some love, self respect, and hope? It is not a utopic wish of a foolish girl… A lot of this suffering does not have to happen.

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