Monday, I return to court for the final act. Well, at least I intend it to be the final act.
When I spend resources trying to avoid the painful moment I am imagining, I will never know how to respond to the actual experience. Everything becomes a story about a fix to a broken fix to another useless hole. These responses to my discomfort only create a new narrative of pain for myself and others. I avoid living in an impermanent moment out of fear.
Here is the reality, dig down a bit, and beneath all Painter’s cuntishness is pain. I know it isn’t personal, except where I make it so.