My mind, addled. My heart, achy. Suffering brings its own set of quiet reflections on life.
Why, for instance, do people seek refuge in sex, when they’re in distress. I, for one, would never find comfort in an orgasm. Isn’t pain antithetical to the very spirit of (carnal) pleasure?
Sex, I realize, is easy to find—though, you may not always like its source. What is hard to find, however, is a good companion, one on whose shoulders, you could break down into a paroxysm of sobs in your darkest days. For now, “The Kiss,” a composition by Philip Glass, serves as an emollient.