junk

I heard someone say that we've all got junk but that those who manage it the best find the most happiness.

But is it really a job of managing, or is it bigger than that? I can manage my junk by dusting it off and polishing it. I can keep it looking nice for awhile. I can cover it in brilliant fabric or top it with pictures in frames of happy times and smiling people. I can present it to the world with a grin and a nod and for extra emphasis - a giggle. I can even dress it up and try to sell it in a garage sale. But managing junk isn't fixing it. It's the same problem with pain. When pain is intolerable and nothing helps it wane, morphine or something stronger is the prescription. And while it gets rid of the pain, it doesn't even touch the root. It doesn't fix the problem. And in the end, it leaves the pain-ridden groggy and confused.

Maybe those people who manage their junk best are really just the best liars. They think they've got it all under control when everything is messy right under the surface.


I don't feel the way I've ever felt.
I know.
I'm gonna smile and not get worried.
I try but it shows.
Anyone can make what I have built.
And better now.
Anyone can find the same white pills.
It takes my pain away.

It's a lie.
A kiss with open eyes.
And she's not breathing back.
Anything but bother me.
(It takes my pain away)

Nevermind these are hurried times.
Oh oh ohI can't let it bother me.
I never thought I'd walk away from you.
I did.
But it's a false sense of accomplishment.
Every time I quit.
Anyone can see my every flaw.
It isn't hard.
Anyone can say they're above this all.
It takes my pain away.
I can't let it bother me.
(Jimmy Eat World, Pain)