It is entirely numb and flubbering about like a leech mooching off a piece of butt cheek. I’m starting to feel my gums though, in a painful way. My blood tastes like iron, although I have never consciously tried tasting iron before. Is that supposed to be ironic? I don’t know, but there’s this dull ache extending from where a tooth used to be, massaging the depths of my brain with a finger called pain.
Four of my original teeth have been plucked out, by the way. The shock of it will probably hit me tomorrow when I wake up.
I’m not entirely convinced I should have done this, but I am trying to convince myself it was the right decision. Maybe I’ll start to appreciate having gone through the pain in ten years’ time. Maybe I won’t, but it wouldn’t have mattered – in the end, we all need some kind of coping mechanism in life.