What Keeps Us Alive

The thorn in my side weeps and wheezes when I roll out of bed, reeling at the thought of another day. Why me, why us, it asks as I pull my boots on and wrap my body in layers to keep the frozen air off my skin. Yet I wake and I work, I clean my home and I cook my meals, this is why I get up but I know this is not what the thorn wants to hear.

It cannot be pleased, questioned, or negotiated with, the thorn does not waiver when you are sad, it does not back down when you give up. It stabs you repeatedly in a fashion that would make one prefer a beating. As a cruel parent it says do better, as well as a friend that tells you to never stop. A whip on your very soul, it punishes you for being lazy and complacent, for the want of a normal life.

The thorn isn’t really in one’s side, it’s in your soul, the side of your head, it’s in your very bones when you’ve had enough. It is the unconquerable will of the human spirit that takes the gun out of your mouth, the knife away from your wrist, and the rope off your neck. There is nothing like it, it will punish you in the world we have created, but it will give you wealth unimaginable when fed.

There is nothing better in this existence than pulling oneself back up out of the muddy swill and doing what you love, you may never make a dollar doing it, but you’ll have a full soul, a friend for life. One on your side, one you can count on when the floor drops out from under you.