14 - The Sting Will Go Away
Cold. That’s all I feel. That’s all that reaches my brain, at least until the pain seeps deeper into my skin, the fresh gash from the jagged weapon that is your tongue making its way toward my nerves. Signals fire, transmitters transmit, and receptors receive, but I am blind to it all. One thing, one feeling coats my vision. I forget how to move, how to breathe, and it’s not until I’m gasping for air that I remember I have lungs, and I have to use them if I want to get out of this alive. The cold spreads over my skin, infecting my body and mind with its darkness. I see spots, flickers of light and color from a world I used to feel safe in. But now I do not.
Hot. That’s all I feel. The fever seems to have set in, and my mind is racing. I feel warm and the warmth of those who allow the frost to shake from my bones. I think of my mom and her soft skin and her kind eyes. I think of my dad and the mints he steals from work to bring back to us. I think about my brothers and the fights we have, but the fact that we would die for one another if it came down to it. A second burn radiates through my body, and my mind takes a second to catch up with the new aching.
Sharp. That’s all I feel. Any movement I make sends shards of glass through my spine, into my temples, and around my lips. Will this be forever? Will this agony last until my knees give up and I fall against the hard concrete? I stand with the pain, and I let it hurt me, the only comfort being the hope that it will soon end.
Numb. That’s all I feel. I don’t know if I am alive or dead. When I pinch my skin, I feel nothing. But then my vision starts to return, and I exhale. I made it out alive.
Slow. That’s all I feel. I take things one day at a time. My mom tells me it will all get better, that although it doesn’t seem like it right now, all of that pain and suffering is leading me to something incredible. I feel my skin growing, creeping around the now-dried blood and holding in place the broken bone. My body pulls itself back together, and my eye releases a tear, but it’s a good one this time. It’s thankful to my body for protecting me once again.
Peace. That’s all I feel. It’s taken a while, but I’m feeling better. I feel strong and supported. My mom was right; I am in a better place. I had to trudge through the mud, broken glass, and fire to get here, but I’ve arrived. It just took some time.
