Pain is boring.

[violsva]

My scars are dull. There is nothing interesting about them, and there never was. If they were on my skin instead of my soul they would transcribe a dreary story of five identically unpleasant neverending years. With them scrawled across the inside of my brain I ignore them, so sick of their repetition I barely see them, without any interest in reading them again, again, again, again. Pain past or continuing is the reiterations, the irrelevancies, the circumlocutions, the redundant restatements obfuscating any other sense or meaning. Pain is the least interesting thing about me, and only blocks the rest.