Pain. Pain is a harsh mistress. She is insanely jealous; any attempt to think of another causes her to clasp me in an embace that cannot be denied. Like any abusive spouse, she separates me from my other loves; she causes me to adopt her habits of bad temper; when rivals speak to me, she whispers into my ear so that I cannot follow their conversations; she causes me to talk of nothing but her. Of all rivals for her attention, only the gentle daughters of the Goddess Lethe, Oxycontin and Hydrocodone, can get a word in edgewise- but she waits impatiently, balefully, to grasp me all the stonger when they weaken.
The seers, the Oracles of Aescapulus, assure me that in a couple weeks she will loose interest and embrace another... and she laughs. "What is time," she whispers, "A few weeks with the right person is eternity."
Sorry, my loves, I must go; my mistress is calling.