8

Dear Ellis,

Life sometimes has a nasty way of kicking you right in the bollocks when you least expect it. Even after years of bullock-abuse; I’m still surprised when life, like a toddler, runs up and gives them a good old kicking. You’d think, that after 30+ years of life that I’d learn how to cope with the pain of a squishy-sack smash, but … I’m still shocked at how much it hurts and I still have no good coping mechanism for it.

Now, all of this is metaphorical of course and you know as well as I do that the pain of an /actual/ ball-busting is only temporary — whereas life’s testicle trampling can be far, far worse and last for much, much longer. I’m no expert on emotional pain, nor would I ever begin to think that I could understand somebody else’s - but there’s something somewhat unifying in shared suffering. I don’t want to suffer - and God knows that I would hate for you to experience pain, but the shared sufferings of life seem to have a hidden beauty in them.

Maybe there’s a reason people turn to religion and why they feel so strongly united in it — they understand the shared “suffering” of it. They all feel the collective gonad-gnashing of their values and beliefs. And maybe that’s the answer to deep friendships: collective suffering.

It’s no secret, Ellis, that this last year has been a daily repeat of collective suffering. It’s also no secret that our friendship has suffered as a result. But I do want you to know that no matter how hard life kicks — I’d be willing to take a shot to the nuts for you any day.

Jt