When I was little I was grateful that I was born after the wars had ended (little did I know that wars never end) and 20 years since the last world war seemed a long time, indeed - a nice buffer for me from all that suffering. I thought that no matter what happens to me, it can't be that bad. Then I heard of accidents - car crashes and the like, and freedom from suffering became a little less certain, but still I felt impervious. If only I did my best, I thought things would likely turn out alright. What I didn't realize is that things never 'turn out' alright. It just depends where you end the story - isn't that the cliche about happy endings? Because in the end it's never alright. My mother's death taught me that. Things are alright until they're not anymore.
What I still don't understand is how I'm supposed to continue in the face of things never being alright again. How much suffering can I take. Last night, as I lay in bed my heart literally hurt, or at least the left side of my chest. And it's like this every night, and every time I wake up, and in the middle of the day, when my mind can't be distracted and now it comes with hot flashes, not just spasms in my core. But it's not the physical pain I mind - I could probably seek redress for that, and it's not the lack of a happy ending - I know there is none. It's the why go on like this that boggles my mind.