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On Carrying Spare Change

"While time heals all wounds, I can’t imagine you wanting it to heal in the wrong way."

I always thought that carrying around sadness is like walking around with a lot of change in your pockets, jangling around as you move: sometimes you just have to dump all the change out, count it, organize it, and deposit or something. You can’t keep walking around sounding like a tambourine forever.

And it’s not like you have to tell the world about your sadness: you honestly tell the world more by carrying it around and lashing out, than if you just figured it out at home and didn’t let it control you. It’s a burden and it’s restrictive. The jangling in your pockets isn’t just heavy for you, it’s annoying for everybody around you on a daily basis… The sound is loud, with every one of your movements. Even if you don’t tattoo it on your forehead, human beings are empathetic creatures and can pick up on your sadness, usually, at least; subconsciously, at least. Sometimes they care.

To the man that seems worthy of my affection:

I’m always down to listen and nod and bounce around ideas with you… I like you, and I like listening to you, and I care about you.. I want you to be happy. While time heals all wounds, I can’t imagine you wanting it to heal in the wrong way. My mom once cut her finger to the bone when she was my age; she had made plans to go on a field trip, and really wanted to go, so instead of going to the hospital, so she wrapped it herself in gauze and now it’s permanently bent at one of the joints. Not too pretty.

End note– this is a shorter piece, but like Einstein once said, if you can’t explain it simply, you don’t understand it well enough.