I pierce my tongue with a red hot nail, install a rusty padlock through the hole, then swallow the key; it's weight will prevent any true thoughts, and misinterpreted words from escaping, and imprison all of my secrets.
The lack of movement leads to bedsores and paralysis.
The lack of cleanliness leads to infection.
The infection leads to death.
Rigamortis.
Muscles spasms held in check under that heavy metal weight: my last words won't make any sense.
My words never made any sense.
In high school, my fingertips started to form little mouths that have grown throughout the years, and became fully functional. which meant they are the next to go.
They don't deserve the luxury of a sharp kitchen knife, a meat slicer, saw, or even an ax.
I don't deserve that luxury; I deserve pain because it has been proven that I am a terrible person.
Which is why I'm walking out to my $700 Oldesmobile, opening the front door, placing one hand in the door jam and the other, cocked, on the outside of the door.
Slam! Slam! Slam!
Then walk around the car and repeat the same process in the passenger side door with the opposite hands.
Slam! Slam! Slam!
"FUCK!!!" is the only thought I have until I look down at the mutilated digits that are cracked and splintered (bones sticking out of lacerations in the skin, pointing in all different directions, smashed fingernails, snapped joints, blown out knuckles, blood, tiny missing teeth scattered across the driveway, and miniature broken jaws.)
Never able to speak again.
Never able to text, email, blog, or instant message.
Never able to unintentionally ruined someone's night again.
Never able to insult anyone without even realizing it.
Never able to be kind and empathetic towards anyone ever again.
Never able to wear an engagement ring or friendship bracelet.
From now on, all I can do is listen, and give yes or no answers with a nod or a shake of the head.
From now on, everyone who come into contact with me has the opportunity to be happy.
It's all for the best.
Positive Thinking 2013
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