I laugh at my troubles, just laugh the hurt away. It stays, and simply retreats. It always comes back another day, just like the rain. The hurt that came the moment you kissed her. The hurt that came when I ran away and you didnβt follow. The hurt that is there, every day of every week of every hour of every minute of every second... I have enough hurt for us all.
So the masochistic I welcome into my arms, the lonely may stand in my warmth, and the depressed will not come because they have no comforting place. The schizophrenic I will console, the bipolar I will stabilize. And finally in the end I will rejoice in their comfort, even though I have none. Itβs the closest I can get to happiness.