I Can Still Feel Everything

I'm happier when I'm distracted. I know that. I wan't at all depressed today when I was at work, nor did I think about how many years it has been since I believed that I was really heading in some specific direction according to a purpose.

Strange that I'm not more easily distracted. You would think that I would whole-heartedly embrace it, as an agent to numb the pain of this consistent failure I see in me.

I've never been much for numbing pain. I've always wanted to know the whole truth, and that means no medicine. Medicine is a distraction. Medicine lies to you about how much trouble you're really in.

I was 12 years old, and I had a cavity. Eight of them, actually. I had only been to the dentist once before, when I was six. I remember specifically that he had told me then that I should change my brushing habits or I would have cavities. Six years later, I had cavities. Maybe I am unable to change. More than likely, I just didn't.

They put a needle into my gums and squeezed it out three times. They were trying to find a way to excuse the pain that was coming. It was not working.

Can you feel this?

Yes, I can feel it.

I want us to be friends, she said over a premature cup of coffee. She was scared, I now realize, because she used friendship as a way to define what we were not going to be. I swear, I barely touched her the whole time we were going out. Scared of making her scared.

Is it possible? Will you call me?

She collected relationships like I collected rejections. Heaven forbid that either of us be denied the prize we had rightfully earned.

Yes.

I said it because I grew tired of telling the truth. Eventually I crawled back to truth like a smoldering cigarette on a lonely weekday. I want the pain. It reminds me. Yes, I will call you. Yes, we will meet again. No, we won't be friends.

I lied to them.

I told them that I couldn't feel anything so that it would go on. I needed them to cut out all the bad things so that I could use my teeth again. I lied when I said I didn't care because I felt everything. I wouldn't dare ask for anyone's pity, or wish away any of my memories, because now I know. I know the whole of pain. I know every drop of blood that experience has drawn from me, and I have felt that blood leaving me. Now I can use my mouth in a way that was impossible before the drill. I can speak. I can still feel everything.

Ask me if you want to know.