Splitting, searing, throbbing pain...hurts to move, hurts to see, hurts to exist...but I keep going faster. Run, whip through the motions. The faster I go, the easier it is to ignore it, to forget...but the pain never goes away. The agony only ever gets worse.
And then I hear it: the music, music that I know, that I love, that I've heard before but not exactly that way...and though it hurts to hear, though it tears me apart, I cannot help but listen. And that pain, that rhythmic wave of sound that sent me reeling into anguished shock, eased the other pain. It lessened the agony, soothed the torn edges of my nerves...
And the pain I felt when it ended, when it was gone, superceeded any pains from before. Being without it, that thing that I loved though it shattered me, was worse than never having had it, than never experiencing the shatter at all. Deprivation may have nearly killed me...but I wouldn't trade it for ignorance. Because somehow the first pain is easier, that origional agony is nothingness, when compared to the loss I now feel. And that makes it easier to endure.