Pain less

I wonder, from time to time, whether writing all this is cathartic for me. It does help a little bit for me to write all these thoughts and feelings. But to what end? Have I any audience? Is my writing without aim? I need to know...I need to know that my words will come of some use and purpose other than offering my heart temporary respite. I come here everyday, with continuing weakened spirits. What's difficult in this place is that I am surrounded with depressed people, who are trying their best to maintain uplifted mindsets. In some sense we offer each other support, but in another regard, we so easily reveal our weaknesses to one another in our weakened states. It's difficult to be strong in such a place and in such circumstances. I miss my colleagues at work at various points each day. I don't miss the heavy loud bell that rings with demonic tone to deafen even the most well-intentioned of teacher. Somehow, there is a reverent atmosphere here. I cannot say that I prefer the bell over the calm that is here, however I can say that the conditions under which I am led to have this calm do trouble me so. At what price is peace worth? To what end must pain be tolerated? I did not know what it was like for a friend of mine who had to go to the Reassignment Center, until now. And now I can say I truly understand why they were in pain, even though they were removed from that place which was also causing them pain to begin with. How, then, can pain be avoided? It seems that one pain is merely replaced with another. Is there escape? I wonder.