Caution: This blog contains graphic descriptions and coarse language. (Sorry Sal)
We were supposed to blog about "A Bronx Tale" so i'll make my connection right off the bat. I know what it feels like to get the shit kicked out of you (or at least your mouth.)
I play water polo. Today I went to a men's practice because I wanted to pass more. I passed, I played, and then in the last five minutes of virtual nothingness a decent sized man accidentally hit me so goddamn hard in the face that I saw stars. I saw stars, and then I let my tongue drift around, and I could feel two goddamn teeth sitting halfway in the roof of my mouth. When you near pass out of shock it's hard to feel pain but that doesn't stop the blood from coming.
It bled like a shot artery, and when I saw myself I didn't give two shits about the fact that my lip was partially torn or that I needed to go to the ER- I just thought about my boyfriend and my beauty. Will he love me? Will I be able to get some serious dental surgery by tomorrow morning? And even now at 12:17 AM after spending some quality time with my pops at Highland Park Hospital I can only feel vain.
I'm still bleeding hard, and there's not too much on my lip to stitch anyway. I have a 7:30 A.M appointment with a dentist, and so much hate in the pit of my stomach that it's unbelievable. My gums are completely fucked up, and I can't look at myself in the mirror because I become completely overcome with disgust.
People say that love is everlasting. Through thick and thin the one that loves you will stay. I don't want to be with me right now so how could I make my boyfriend look at me. Maybe i'm writing a blog this open because i'm suffering a mild concussion, but as I sat in Highland Park in a wet swimsuit in the middle of Febuary covered in blood- I could only think: will he love me?
What is this sociological dilemma?
I wish I knew.
I can feel my mouth coming apart against the backs of my freshly crooked teeth.
I'm going to go get some legal drugs.
Goodnight.
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About Me
- There's Something About Mary
- I am extremely unmotivated, and I really love pineapple. I enjoy concerts and trashy TV. I play water polo and like to run. I am an unemployed lifeguard and mad broke. Please throw anything you can my way.
2 comments:
You looked so fine in class, I can hardly believe how awful that must have been. I think we are trained to be hyper-critical of ourselves (more to come next unit) and this carries over to our questioning of those around us (will he love me?). But what we really should question is why did we start thinking this way to begin with? Commercials? Our family? Friends? And then we must ask ourselves, how do we educate this out of ourselves?
You've clearly been consulting this topic for a while, and the smashing of your face has gotten you to talk about it. I know this because I read the card next to your sculpture at the LISA show. Your face looks very nice now by the way. I think vanity is the perfect resolution to your recent trauma - it can only be expected, but I also know that it is true that the one's that love you look past faults. I know this, and he'll prove it my friend. Get better, feel better, and apparently you looked sooooo fiiine in class.
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