Pain and little children

You don't get pain when you are a child. You think pain is what happens when you scrape your knees. You think you are a hero if you can rip off your bandage with one quick pull. Even if you fracture limbs or have your heart broken by some little boy, you grow out of it and forget what it felt like to ache. And you look at the grownups and think so little of them when they curl up with pain. You don't realise that for a strong adult male the pain threshold is so much higher than yours and that if you really see them ache, it's probably worse than you ever imagined. You just wish they would tuck it up and act like a man, and stop bothering you with their problems and concerns, not because you don't care but exactly because you care too much and you feel useless and unbearably embarrassed. You feel betrayed because they are supposed to be your immortal, untouchable superheros who never get hurt, who never get lost who never go away...
That's probably what you felt today, because deep down inside that's what you still are, momma's little boy and you don't understand why I wouldn't get dressed this morning and why I wouldn't go to school when you had to. And you really don't get that I expect you to be spontaneous and care if I don't ask you to. And that there are many other pains and aches I usually simply ignore but not this one, because I couldn't and that you should do something about it, anything, even if that means simply being a little upset.
But you look as still and undisturbed as always, because she didn't teach you better, not because you don't really care but because you don't know what your face should look like when you do. And because you really feel betrayed and embarrassed and useless like the little kid you still are.
And that's why I cannot become upset and hate you, but I do feel unbearably sad tonight...