|—||If your writing is sprinkled liberally with first-person pronouns (I, me, myself), you’re probably a pretty honest person. If, on the other hand, you eschew what The Secret Life of Pronouns author James W. Pennebaker calls “I-words” and use lots of articles (the, a, an) and prepositions (up, with), you might be hiding something. That is Pennebaker’s conclusion after 20 years of language research from a psychosocial perspective. Read more … (via utnereader)|
People say “time heals all wounds.” By people I mean those seeking to comfort the broken-hearted, the hurt, the abused, the abandoned, the betrayed - those who have lost what can never be replaced.
These are the people who say “Time heals all wounds.” It is said to people that need to believe that something, anything, can take away the pain they feel. The tick of a clock. The turning of the hour hand. A new dawn. The revolution of the earth around the sun. This is our concept of time, how we measure the passage of events and orient ourselves in a dynamic universe.
But what does a few ticks of a clock have to do with anything? The seasons change, yet the pain we feel is no less real. It does not dissolve because the earth moves around the sun. How ludicrous! And how insulting to those we have lost, to the undying love we promised them (if we were fool enough to do such a thing).
What we ought to say is “forgetfulness heals all wounds.” That’s a saying I could endorse and is of course what the former statement actually means. We just don’t have the stomach to admit it. It’s not time that eases our pain. It’s the slow and steady decay of the memories of those that have gone before us, the people we have loved and lost dissolving as the world goes on without them.
If I lose a friend that is dear to me, someone I truly love, time will not erase the pain. What eases the pain is getting used to a world in which they no longer exist. What eases the pain is forgetting how good it made you feel when you made them smile or suddenly being unable to recall what their laugh sounded like. In our soul we pray to forget the memories, the sights, and the sounds. Time is a scapegoat god for paltry promises of love that we no longer wish to keep. We both blame time and beseech it for the oblivion we secretly seek.
Time. Time is nothing. If you want the pain to cease, you must forget. And being able to forget something you promised you never would — this is not an occurrence brought on by the ticking of a clock or the movements of the celestial bodies! And so how tragic! How heart-rending! How utterly vexing a situation for those fools who believe in love!
But actually wanting to forget…perhaps that is the greatest tragedy of all.
And the greatest shame.