It doesn’t hurt to grow up poor. It doesn’t hurt when your daughter is born with medical problems. It doesn’t hurt not being there when your father died. It doesn’t hurt not being there when your step-father died. It doesn’t hurt when you sacrifice happiness for duty. It doesn’t hurt having your dog put down. It doesn’t hurt not being there when your grandmother died. It doesn’t hurt not being there when your “other†mother died. It doesn’t hurt not being there when your uncle died. It doesn’t hurt when you sacrifice happiness for others. It doesn’t hurt watching others destroy what you built. It […]
Author
unstuckone
unstuckone
Inhabiting an epilogue... "WE ALL SEE our lives as stories, it seems to me, and I am convinced that psychologists and sociologists and historians and so on would find it useful to acknowledge that. If a person survives an ordinary span of sixty years or more, there is every chance that his or her life as a shapely story has ended, and all that remains to be experienced is epilogue. Life is not over, but the story is. It was then that these words should have appeared somewhere: THE END. But they didn’t. But his life as a story was over anyway. The remaining years were epilogue—a sort of junk shop of events which were nothing more than random curiosities, boxes and bins of whatchamacallits. Some people, of course, find inhabiting an epilogue so uncongenial that they commit suicide." ~From "Deadeye Dick" by Kurt Vonnegut Jr.