I cut myself the other day, near the knuckle of my finger, and it was painful. It still is painful because every time I bend my finger, the wound seems to re-open.
I was reading a book the other day, about how the author was abused as a child, and it was painful. The kind of pain that makes you weep even though you have no experience of the abuse nor know the person who was abused.
I visited my ex-boyfriend the other day, with his wife, and it was painful. It was a bittersweet pain that grips your heart for a moment and then passes, because you are now finally convinced you can lay the dream to rest.
And she asked me, “Do you believe there is meaning in pain?"