[no one] pursues or desires to obtain pain of itself . . .
but occasionally circumstances occur in which toil and pain
can procure some great pleasure.
Dear Pain. Dear only thing we all have in common. Dear Cicero. We do seek it. Of course we do. [Type your pain here.] Let me tell you about it, Lorem. The moon had just struck five. The lodestars were low hanging fruit. Taste it. Eve’s Apple. Both Principles at the same time. You know she knew it would hurt. You know she liked it. I’m just writing to say I’m dying on Storrow Drive. I would have eaten that apple too. So would you, Lorem. [Please type your response here.] Good Lord, the traffic. The stars are exploding in my mouth. This is, of course, my suicide note. [Insert all the people who will miss me here.] You might think this is an extreme case. All I did was eat. People [insert verb here] all the time, Lauren. I know your name’s not Lauren. Good [insert name of deity here], the Laudanum, Lorem. I’m feeling pain without pain. I’m dying without death. Tell me how that makes you [insert emotion here]. Insert a(n) [cathartic] ending here.
AR Dugan • Boston, Massachusetts