Wednesday, April 10, 2013

Bridge to Numb

To say she knew what she was doing would be a lie.  But a barely one.  In her Venn diagram of pain, there was that center part where physical and emotional overlap leaving little distinction between the two.  That was where she lived.  In the center part.  It was just so damn hard to tell sometimes.  Yet she knew her own weakness, her own ignorance, her own blindness when it came to her center part, and that was why she refused the pills. 

It is better to hurt than to be dead, yes? 

Oh, the stories she could tell you that are wedged within the letters of that phrase.  Oh.  The stories.  She could not even trust herself to answer that question in the socially acceptable way.   And mean it.

That was also why she refused the pills.  

Yet the doctor had a way about him, and reveled in the joy of reminding her of her own ignorance.  Reminding her that he knew best.  "Take the pills."  He told her.  "They will help."  

So she took them.  Home with her.  Tossed them in a drawer.  And waited for the pain.  

It liked to sneak up on her.  The most inconvenient times.  In waves or stabs or pulses.  Whether by body or mind, so hard to tell.  So hard.  But the hurt.  Just fucking hurt.  

And that was when she remembered the pills.  

Urgency took her by the earlobe, flinging her knowbetter like a towel used to snap her naked leg.  She shook them free into a palm.  One or two, one or two.  Her eyes wobbled.

Two or three.  Three or four.  She only felt.  She could not see.  

The bridge to numb unfolded at her feet, teasing safe passage.  'Take the bridge.  The way round is miles about, miles of undoing.  Take the bridge.' Voiceless words summoned her thus. 

She would love to say she took the long way round.  She would love to say she took the brittle path of righteousness.  

But she cannot say.  Four or five.  Five or six.  The bridge to numb rolled up behind her. 

She cannot say. 



  1. "So she took them. Home with her. Tossed them in a drawer. And waited for the pain.

    This part was sweet.

    I couldn't fathom a life that needed pills (other than my one daily dose of allergy pill, and the baby preventer pill) I'm not a pill taker. I've thrown out more prescriptions for antibiotics than I would ever know. So when I hear of people who do not take their meds, I nod and feel all knowingly.


    There's a cure for that!

    But then looks like she took too many.

    "A world of pain." -Walter (from the Big Lebowski)

    1. Certain ones have saved my life. It's that one that I take every day. It's that one I have taken more religiously and for a longer period of time than I ever took birth control pills. Nobody knows the long-term effects of it, especially at the doses I am taking, but I don't care. It keeps me alive, with both feet more or less on the ground. That's huge for me. Everything else is shit. Antibiotics, hell no. I better be fucking dying. Narcs, though. Fucking narcs. And benzos. Fuck that. No doctor in his right mind should ever give them to me. This is why.