Poopy

Occasionally, I start to think. Usually this is a total accident. Last time I was thinking my brain-mission (like a transmission for your thinker) popped out of gear and started spinning. When I finally regained control, I found myself thinking about a story I once heard about a little boy. This little boy began to get sick. Nobody knew why. After a while, he was taken to the doctor, who informed his family that he needed to poop. Turns out, he hadn't pooped for a very long time. We're talking months here. When his dad asked him why he didn't poop, he responded, "Because sometimes it hurts." How often are we like this little boy? I don't mean pooping. I am using the story as a metaphor. How often do we not do something because we are afraid it might hurt?