I think it’s the same thing, in principle. For example, let me tell you a story. When I was a kid, a younger kid, I had to help my dad paint a house. It doesn’t sound that bad, I know. My little brother was there to help. Fun, right? I hated my little brother. He was always making things worse by being difficult. I hated my dad. For many reasons. School was starting soon, and I hated the situation I was in. I didn’t want to paint this house forever, and have to play catch-up with my homework. Before that, I was at my mom’s house. Guess whether or not I hated her. She had just put us through all this shit about leaving her again. Guilt trips and all. She was throwing plates at the end, right before we left. She was on medication. Before that, she had stopped me from going to an important, expensive summer camp for wrestling, one that a supporter was going to fund for me. I really wanted to go. Before that I had been living at my friend’s house, because my dad got us kicked out of our house, and there wasn’t a lot of room in the hotel we were at.
So we were painting this house, and it’s wasn’t nice at all. It was hard to paint over and around all the cracks and shit, and the dust. I was hurting all over holding my arms up all day, and the fumes of the paint were getting to me. And because of our money situation, getting something to eat was more of a reward to a hard days work than something I wished could have been taken for granted. I was hungry, nauseous, and hurting inside and out. Trust me, through all the monotonous hours, and the lonesome days and nights, there was plenty of time to think about what was happening to me. I was a smart guy, still am I hope. I had the capacity and the spare time to really draw it all out, to really, you know, really make it real in my head. Every little detail, the “how’s”, “what’s”, and “why’s”. Everything.
Could I have not been so miserable? Somehow? I don’t know, I was a kid, kids are stupid. But I can’t help but to shake my head when people at work complain about what a mountain they have to climb that day. Or anyone, balking at a little work, a little trouble, a little pain. Today? I look up see a molehill at most. It’s only when I look down that I can see any distance. A huge, empty cavern, dark and quiet. I wouldn’t say I wouldn’t be able to find my way out of it, but I certainly don’t plan on going down there again. No way. I just suck in a breath, let it out, and take a few steps uphill towards the end of my day.
pg. 18