Rules are meant to be broken

Do not put statements in the negative form.
And don't start sentences with a conjunction.
If you reread your work, you will find on rereading that a
great deal of repetition can be avoided by rereading and editing.
Never use a long word when a diminutive one will do.
Unqualified superlatives are the worst of all.
De-accession euphemisms.
If any word is improper at the end of a sentence, a linking verb is.
Avoid trendy locutions that sound flaky.
Last, but not least, avoid cliches like the plague.
~William Safire, "Great Rules of Writing"

On Control and Pain

by Teresa Halfacre

“You must do the thing you think you cannot do.” — Eleanor Roosevelt

The relentless pain defines your life. You’re hedged in by all the things you can’t do. It prods you until you are teetering on the brink of insanity, grasping for anything to hold on to. You sort your life into pain and less pain. At times with great effort you can appear normal. Then you try to laugh, socialize, exercise; function beyond survival. On other days, pain overwhelms you and getting out of bed becomes impossible.

…

Pain is a motivator. It drives some people to drug abuse, or suicide. Others become irritable and lash out at whomever and whatever comes near. Still others trudge on, lives bent under the siege. Pain warps your body; it can no longer be trusted. Pain can change your young body into the stiff husk that only an old grandmother should know.

…

Ben and Jerry’s ice cream holds no appeal. It is strewn with cherries, peanut butter, and cookies, colors swirled together, strands of caramel and fudge. It is like wearing a silk shirt from the 1980’s in brilliant colors of bizarre proportions: not in style. You like things black and white, concrete. Vanilla. Chocolate. Dirt drives you to distraction, but the dog-eared pages of books falling apart from use, they are your friends. Old friends. Written in black ink on white pages, they are.

…

You have found one thing that counters pain’s sway over your sanity—control. Control over anything, anything at all, is vital. You search for things that aren’t left to chance, things that are simply reliable. You feel the need to reorganize your house periodically, clean it thoroughly, order it all. On days you feel especially out of control you pull all of the books off their shelves and alphabetize them. You clutch order to stave off the unpredictable.

…

Yet, one day you decide you are going to get out of bed, and make it too. You decide to do more than read the next escapist fantasy book or organize the closet. You find a part-time job and apply to school. Pain is pitiful, and you must do something to not be pitiful. You choose to live your life, because control is about choosing to live despite the circumstances.