Preface

I think the world has a very interesting way of showing itself to you, especially when you let it. The problem is it won't ever do so unless you can let go of whatever is in your present mind. I think the content I intend on writing is relatively heavy but there's never a bad time to talk about my experience with cats.

I've been trying to find the right time to start to work on this. It's been a while in the making. I've been starting to resolve some of my inner issues and have been attempting to let them go as I do. It's hard to find the right time to start something that feels so ambitious. Maybe tomorrow would have been better. Maybe I should have started earlier, but then I wouldn't have the experiences I have to this date. I don't know. Maybe my experiences would have been better if I had started this before. Who knows.

I can feel myself rambling and I think a preface is meant to be short and sweet... what was I talking about earlier... Cats.

Regardless of why today was the day. It was. I found myself walking down towards the pier with the sun setting. It was still bright enough to get my forehead nice and red, but just starting to show the peach lines over the escarpment hills that often remind me it's time to stop drinking coffee. During my journey I found myself incredibly emotional, thinking about what I was going to say. How am I going to word it? Is it weird to write a memoir about yourself? Fuck, isn't it even weirder to write a memoir ABOUT yourself TO YOURSELF? All these thoughts about the pointlessness of it all seemed to shut out pretty quickly by a flood of tears I kept trying to keep off my face. Not for my own sake, for those around me. A 6'3 245lb dude with a big beard and painted nails is scary enough—let's not add my sobbing into the mix as well.

I digress, it didn't take much longer until I saw a cat lying on the pathway(Probably not a safe place, it was a pretty busy bike lane). I think anyone who knows me can complete the rest of the story but I let go of my feelings and I was able to pet him or her,(Maybe a xir in today's climate) and I felt myself drift back into a state of peace. I found myself laying in the grass with a strange black cat for almost a half hour and smiling for the first time today.

The point is, I think the world can show you exactly what you need, you just need to let go of control and let it. I think that's what this is. It's me putting to bed the last few years of my life and a lot of the issues that have come with them.

Pain

I've always found human interactions with pain incredibly interesting. I think it exists to tell us we're doing something wrong, it's a warning sign. Your brain telling you STOP, DON'T DO THAT. We find ourselves in interesting situations where we will endure pain if needed.

If we have a toothache and it takes a bit of pain to fix our teeth, we'll go to a dentist. If your head hurts from studying too much—we'll keep dredging along because we need to get our work done.

It seems to be a pretty inefficient way to prevent us from doing things that are bad for us.

We'll get our skin pierced to embezzle it despite the pain. We'll forcefully push ink into our skin walls with needles to create skin doodles. We seem to have an interesting relationship with pain. If its purpose was to prevent us from doing something it seems to be doing a bad job.

We also seem to have a desire to pursue or look for pain. You crack your knuckles despite it hurting because it's "just right". A hard massage does wonders for your body, and you feel so much more relaxed after. We find some of you weird folk enjoying spankings. A bee sting would hurt me, but a lover's bite would arouse me. I find it interesting.

I think we all have had scabs that we pick at. They're just right, they might be a bit too early and bleed but it feels like just enough discomfort to be the most comfortable thing in the world. We continue to pick at them, even if it hurts too much because it's somewhat addicting. Sometimes they continue to bleed and then it's quite annoying but no matter what we keep going back. The thing is those scabs can very quickly turn into scars. Things that won't ever heal again.

I've found myself in a similar loop of actions with my depression. I think engaging your emotions is incredibly important, but so is letting go of them. I continue to poke and prod at it, until my eyes well up much like the scabs I pick to do. I'm worried that I may have already caused these wounds to scar.