Hurt, and the other thing
I find it hard to describe or pin it down to any particular part of my body, but it is most definitely there. Not so much now; but even little reminders tweak the senses. It can be a song on the radio, a movie on the tube, or my personal favorite, a well crafted work of fiction in the written word.
The founding documents of our democracy talk of certain truths being self evident, but they don’t mention the truths that are most reliably self evident. I’ll grant them this however; it wouldn’t have served their purpose to speak of these truths: that all men will know pain, hunger, unfulfilled desire, loss. I defy any person to justify any of these truths; they simply are what they are. The problem with these truths is that we too often let them overshadow the others, even if this subset is only half of the equation. Oh how sweet it is when we are allowed to embrace this other half, joy, fulfillment, achievement.
Most importantly, there’s love: my most reliable antidote to the less savory truths. I think this is one of the strongest draws of a good story. Whether it is a romantic comedy, a work of science fiction, or a piece of classic literature; at some point a good story with strong character development touches on my favorite truth. That’s when I feel the connection. That’s when I feel like the author could be describing me, under different circumstances. That’s when I feel the truth in my life, under my own circumstances. It’s thankfully not the only time, but its part of the draw, no, the addiction, to fiction.
If I didn’t have to work today I could read all day.