Mention Donald Trump,and I feel,suffering like a stone.Just show me a picture of Donald Trump and all the suffering of being human comes to sit inside me like a rock. Donald Trump, fat, greasy, false, cheap, false, arrogant, injured and spiteful Donald Trump….false….false…false..a cheat. A,gangster. An abomination.
All it takes is hearing his voice and I suffer with wanting to murder him. I’ve never felt like killing anyone before, but one day at lunch, my friends and I sat and came up with ways to get to then President Trump to kill him. Sneaking in as cleaning women with poison for his hamburgers…..posing as a journalist with a gun hidden somewhere to shoot him…..flirting with him (yuck) at a gathering and slipping poison into his Diet Coke……..sneaking in as a plumber and then coming up through his toilet to,stab him right through his defecating body…..it gives me pleasure to think of ways to make Trump suffer….this helps me stay sane….it was a fun lunch, our little,gang of would be murderers…..
Or show me a tv picture of abandoned baby elephants or tiger cubs….asking me for money to adopt one of them….I suffer…..or worst of all, right up there with anything trumpy, are pictures of suffering dogs.
I suffer easily.
I write in order not to suffer or more to the point, to ameliorate my suffering.
I hate suffering.
I’d rather eat an entire chocolate cake and feel lousy with guilt than suffer..l.but then I’ll eat the cake and then….yep…I suffer.
I even suffer when I find pleasure.
I hate even the notion of making another person suffer…..except,for,Trump…..I truly wish him to suffer….
I read the prompt Make me suffer and right away I say no I don’t want to make you suffer…..to suffer, some say, is to,endure…..I suffered his presence….I endured his company…..
I suffer from the sadness of our current societal woes….
Yesterday a young incel shot dead people at a Fourth of July gathering….he, the incel is,already suffering , or else he wouldn’t feel the need to shoot strangers dead…but I don’t care…I want to see him stripped bit by bit of the skin that covers his thin tattooed body….see? I can devise wonderful ways to make others suffer…..I’ve read enough fiction to know ways of suffering…..
But I don’t need fiction.
I write in order to soothe my suffering, but as long as I live, I shall,suffer. The nature of suffering…..Buddhists have much to say on the subject….life is,suffering…precious human existence? bah! All for what? For the smell of one fragrant springtime flower? One beautiful month in Italy?
I live and I suffer.
But I suffer in the hope of finally one day not suffering anymore……but as Shakespeare said….to,sleep perchance to dream?