Published on July 3rd, 2012 | by Betty8
Hello World. Betty here. Do enjoy today’s story and let me know what you think in the comment box.. Thanks!
I won’t take the painkillers today. I lied to you that I forgot; that I have lost the transparent plastic filled with the magic white pills that stick to my tongue and leave behind a streak of congealed bitterness and numbness. I want to feel my pain today because it is all I have left.
“Does it hurt?” You ask.
“Yes.” I answer.
“How?” You ask. “How does it hurt?” You ask again as my face is crumpled to a grotesque wince- the penance for moving too abruptly.
I wave my hands vaguely in the air because it is too abstract to be put into four-syllable complex words. It isn’t the first time you’re asking but if I couldn’t relay to you the degree, the harrowing torment then, I can’t now.
I see your eyes close down even before your lids cover them. You want to be let in but how does one explain pain? Make it more communicable? I want you to understand as much as you want to.
“What can I do? How can I help?” You ask and I melt a little inside; I die a little as your tears seep out from underneath. I want there to be something you can do. I want to say: “Rub my back in a clockwise direction and sing that folk song your grandma used to sing.” Or “Squeeze a lemon in a hot mug of water, darling, and I’ll be brand new.” But I can’t do any of these.
And I understand that this is a barrier. I am engulfed in a world you can’t understand and so you keep retreating because trying to climb over these walls is a tedious futile task. And further back, because you are affronted that I am doing nothing to meet you half-way.
So, I will hold on to my pain because I am losing you. The pills only bring me fleeting reprieve and I have said again and again that being addicted to them is a weakness I won’t entertain. Perhaps the throes of pain will blind me to the lowering of your climbing gear; and your will to fight.