The Last Laugh

June 3, 2008

I gnawed my fingernails down to the bone and I bit the side of my tongue until it bled. I didn’t notice it until a bit of blood dribbled out of the corner of my mouth; I probably looked like a murder victim.

There is something about physical pain that affects me so differently than emotional pain. I find emotion pain somewhat more distressing and debilitating, while physical pain you can combat with a shmorgasbourg of pills. I cannot cure my emotional pain, but in an attempt to do so, I lash out in other directions. I act out, aggressively. I attach myself to people and vices like barnicles; you have to practically kick me off to rid of me.

More recently, I have learned to express my emotional pain a little more differently. Walls that haven’t been around for a long time are rebuilt… fortified… and reinforced again. My emotional scars are not going to keep me from attaching again, but they numb the pain… the walls are my pain-killers.

In someone else’s warm arms, I instinctively pull away. He asks me what’s wrong but there’s nothing to say. Nothing is wrong. I give in. And in a moment of emotional disconnect, a brilliant epiphany occurs: I am no longer the person I used to be.

I emerge from a cocoon the next day, reborn with new wings. Shortly thereafter, I fly away. Free. I am now in a place that inspires happiness and makes me accomplish things I never thought I could do. I am suddenly the person I’ve been wanting to be since last summer, and my identity is no longer a siamese twin.

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