To a husband at war

I think we all have our own ways of dealing with pain. Is it better to limit how close you become to someone, to not let them in, to not care about them as much as you want to? Sounds harsh right? But, the closer someone is to you, the more they can hurt you. Not that they would on purpose of course - but sometimes the most hurt is caused without even knowing. So you put up your walls, there's a barred window so you can still communicate with the outside world, but no one can get past those walls, so you're alone and empty. Live your life this way and you will stay this way, but hell, at least you will never be hurt ever again. Or is it better to not build those walls in the first place. You let the people who mean something to you in. You let them get close. Does the happiness that they bring make up for the hurt that you will feel?

Because you will feel it, it's a law of probability, you play with fire, one time you will get burnt. Equally, you let people in, you will be hurt a couple of times. So is it better to accept this risk, and experience the highs, and inevitably the lows, or is it better to build yourself some walls. You won't feel those dizzy highs, but on the same token you won't feel any of those lows.

The lyrics below are from a song called 'To a husband at war' by 'I Hate Myself' - yeah, I listen to them quiet a lot heh. See the thing with letting people in is when they go...I mean...how do you cope with that? It's hopeless. Apparently, this song was written after 'I Hate Myself' read a letter. The letter was from a wife who was writing to her husband, who was fighting in the American Civil War. I don't know how much truth there is behind that, but I think it fits pretty well. '....my room....I mean our room' if that doesn't show the conflict between her knowing that she's alone, yet still hoping and wishing that she isn't then I don't know what does. I hope that wife managed to get her husband back.

To a husband at war by I Hate Myself:

Things are here, and you're over there
and in between: land, sea, everything.
I hope you're warm, and I hope you think of me,
(in Petersburg) and the way things used to be.

Yesterday, a telegram said that you had died,
but I knew and I know that it was a lie.
I tried to laugh but went back to my room and cried
I mean our room. I went back to our room and cried.
Retreat, and come back home.