Ways to describe the pain

At times it’s like there’s a string from my tooth tied to the front of the brain, yanking out a chunk of it until it hurts

At times it’s a spike grinding back and forth and sideways into the gums
At times there’s a razor blade slicing forward from the back of the mouth to the front, slicing back and forth
At times the gremlin goes schizophrenic and just start slicing everywhere or stabbing everywhere in whatever direction and orientation it pleases
At times there’s a knife thrusting into the gums in a single deep jab
At times it’s an explosion of pain from the epicenter
At times it’s a hammer pounding outward rhythmically
At times it’s a razor that scrapes up and down the length of the cheek
At times it’s a wall of pain clamping down from the left and right

The Hard Choices…

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about choices. My choices… things that I’ve decided to do and not do, and their consequences. Minor things like “should I get KFC for dinner or try and grab something more decent”, or bigger things like “should I be on team Conan or team Leno”, or even bigger things (personally) like the AX fallouts.

You pick sides, you follow through with your decisions, and because the future is so far ahead all you can do is watch and bicker and hope you’ve done the right thing or went to the winning side, whatever that means. If there’s ever a moment I wish I had a time travelling device it’d be right about now, so I can travel forward in time, find out if what I’ve done meant something, and then stop worrying about it.
And while it’s inappropriate to say anything about the matter out of respect for those involved, there’s so much that needs to be said. There’s so much sadness and anger that makes you want to go somewhere and scream. And when you tap into whatever little information is available, you can’t help but develop intense hatred for those who joined the other side. You call those former friends traitors and morons and worse under your breath, though deep down you should know better, that they’re not out to get you… and there you are, trying to convince yourself that it’s not such a big deal, and yet when the synapses fire all you can think of are the things that you already miss and the cold reality that nothing will be the same again, no matter how hard you grasp and try to turn back time.
How can the future have so little for me to look forward to? Something is seriously wrong here.