View My Teeth are Melting flipbook.
To Whomever, Whenever. Life and Death are curses as much as they are blessings, and that continues to be a sentiment wracking through my mind with every good and bad thing that happens to me. Well, to others as well, but I find my empathy lacking in quality when the shit hits the fan in my home. Selfishness feels more familiar now than it ever has been these past two years. I have wracked up enough college debt to feed an entire orphanage for at least half a decade, and while I continue to tell myself “it’ll be worth it,” the shadow in my mind—logic—says otherwise. To have been fed the idea that if I just did well with my grades, went to college, and remained disciplined, I would land an easy job. No one ever warned me about the debt. So, here I am. Wanting to be dead out of fear of not knowing how to live—truly live. The only time I’ve felt passionate is when I have a bowl of ice cream soothing the inside of my mouth. I consumed other things, of course, but ice cream was something special. No matter the flavor, brand, or bowl I ate from… ice cream was ice cream and it was as simple as that. Nothing else in life seemed ever so simple as ice cream, and perhaps that is what had drawn me to it in the first place. Tonight would be no different, so I sat down on the couch eagerly grabbing the handle of the spoon. Just when I was about to place the treat into my mouth, I turned on the TV to silence the impertinent ticking of the wall clock. I need to take it down. The TV naturally captured half of my attention while the other half wandered to the ice cream. I noticed how it was already melting, and the ticking of the clock seemed to grow louder. With a sigh, I placed the bowl down again and marched to the clock. I yanked it off its hinges and took it with me towards the couch. I could’ve left it on the floor by the wall, but the clock held some value being passed down from my great, great grandparents to me. Why me and not my two older sisters, I will never understand. Ice cream. Finally, I was ready, and although it had melted some more, the sweetness was still floating inside like primordial soup. Without another moment of hesitation, I let the plastic spoon enter my mouth and the immediate cold coated my senses first. Tick. Tick. Tick.
Pain. Painful. Agony. It hurts. My mouth feels like it’s on fire except the fire was extremely cold and, while still sweet, soured by the sensitivity of my teeth and gums. I spat the treat out back into the bowl, and suddenly I lost my appetite. Tick. Tick. Tick. No. No. No. I ran to the bathroom, wedging my jaws open and taking a look at the area where I felt the pain. Much to my surprise, there was a cavity right on the bottom left side of my mouth. One cavity on the wisdom tooth. Tick. Tick. Tick. I went to the dentist the next week. ~ The cavity was small, and the dentist told me that it could be reversed with fluoride treatment. “As long as no one is drilling into my mouth,” I joked. Though, the doctor kept a straight face. At least I paid nothing, for insurance had my back once in a blue moon. The more I thought about it, I felt pity for those who had nothing to their name, and had to pay out of pocket. Again, life is a curse as much as it is a blessing. We are given life on a spectrum of luck and I just so happen to be dead smack in the middle. I brushed my teeth thoroughly every night with the prescribed toothpaste given to me, and I wondered if this was karma for me not being so thorough during my childhood years. My parents forced me to take baths, going as far as to monitor how long I was in there or pay close attention to the sounds of splashing. Though, they never forced or watched me brush my teeth. If the butterfly effect was certainly real, I wondered if brushing my teeth would get me out of debt, get my parents out of debt, get us out of this situation of being just lucky enough yet also not lucky enough. The next day, my luck and emotions were tested. The email that I had been looking for since school ended finally came through and there it was: Nothing. After a full two semesters of making both the Dean’s and Chancellor’s list, getting all As in all classes, going out of my way to try and make friends in clubs, enjoying campus life, forgetting about the debt I’ve already wracked up. Nothing.
No academic scholarships offered. Nothing. 70 outside scholarship applications later: Nothing. Ice cream (among other sweets) became my safe haven throughout the summer. Whenever those thoughts erupted into my head— “You aren’t good enough.” “You don’t deserve assistance.” “Failure. Complete and utter failure.” “Why do you even try?” “Kill yourself. It would be better this way.” I consumed what felt familiar to me despite the pain that continued to flare on the inside of my mouth. Tick. Tick. Tick. Lucky, but not lucky enough. Tick. Tick. Tick. Pain is the ultimate distraction for me, and at least this way, no scares would be left for people to judge me for. “I’m disappointed in you…” Tick. Tick. Tick. Another pint of ice cream gone. Tick. Tick. Tick. Another gone. Tick. Tick. Tick. Another. Tick. Tick. Tick. ~
I went back to the dentist, and they cleaned my teeth. I admitted to them that a lot had been going on, between my mental battles, work, and online course. Brushing my teeth was the last thing on my mind. Thankfully, the decay had not reached the pulp, though they recommended a filling. Without much thought I agreed, suddenly wondering if they’d judge me for declining, as they seemed to judge me for my reason for lack of dental hygiene. They smiled when I agreed to the recommendation, and my heart fluttered a little. That—I—was enough for once. The man at the front desk printed out a paper with the plan of treatment. Just before I had to go back to school, I would get the filling. Though, a frown settled on my face when the cost for one filling was $150. “Doesn’t insurance cover this?” I asked. “Insurance covers part of the cost. Without it, you would be paying double for one filling.” “Oh,” is all I said before I left. My parents were home when I returned, and I suddenly thought about how lucky I was to have both parents with me still. They never once got divorced, nor have they seemed to have interpersonal troubles that broke them apart. I thought about the people who had no parents. Pity and shame filled me. How could I complain about my life when there are millions who have it much worse than I? Sure, I’m in debt, but at least I can go to college. Many don’t even have the opportunity, not without selling their soul first. Despite my rationale, it didn’t help me feel better about my situation. I tried to take better care of my teeth, this time around. I only had a month before the filling and before I went back to school. Every moment needed to count. Why am I even trying? I long since hid the old clock in the closet of my bedroom, even taking the batteries out. Yet, I could still hear the insistent ticking that made me shiver. Tick. Tick. Tick. Why do I feel so overwhelmed? No, there are others who have it worse. There is nothing to be overwhelmed about.
I need a better job. I have to buy stuff for my dorm. I have to pay for my online class by the end of the week. I have to set up a payment plan for my tuition by the end of the month. I have to brush my teeth twice a day instead of once. I’m running out of ice cream. I need sleep. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Why the hell are you stil here? What do you have to offer? Your body? Your brain? Your morals? What are you so afraid of? It’s not like you create anything worthwhile, nor do you look good enough to beg so prettily, hoping that some fortunate guy or girl sweeps you off your feet and saves you— From this hell. Why are you still here? Just. Die. Already. It hurts. Tick. Tick. Tick. I’ve regained control, again. I don’t know how much longer I can keep this goin for. I wonder, every week or so, if money could buy me happiness. If it will not, why does it seem like everyone will do anything for it? Better question—why the fuck do I still hold onto my morals? People are losing them left and right, so why whenever I tell myself that it would be worth it, my body coils in disgust? Tick. Tick. Tick. I’m losing.
Tick. Tick. Tick. This melting pot of expectations and dread. Delusion. Tick… Tick… Ti— I’ve destroyed the clock to live in solace for just a stray second. My morals were abandoned for just that second. That’s it. Is it really my fault? To let go for just a second? I wonder what the worst human looks like. . . . I imagine it’s something like me.