“Long before I knew comfort, there was pain; a pin-pointed moment filled up with as much as anyone could possibly take, a moment then compounded exponentially by all the subsequent moments that followed.
But eventually, even pain becomes a victim of its own success, and so it too receded into the background, until eventually there was simply… nothing.
Until one day comfort finally came, all alien and new, and infinitely unknowable; I had no other choice but to view it through the lens I had been given, the lens through which every other experience of my short and rather pathetic life had been viewed.
Comfort then, at least at first, was as traumatic, as stressful, and every bit as painful as anything that I had known before.
How long before my brain was capable of asking, ‘Does this really hurt?’ I couldn’t possibly say, for time, a hostage in pain’s pincer-like grip, had become a slippery devil, and seemed as feckless as love itself.
And yet, eventually, my rigid muscles did relax, and my suspicions faded, because at last… at long-last, I’d found someone I could count on.” Cassandra Lethe