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Dentures Make Me Sad

I’ve rallied between and amongst too many uncertainties as of late. There are too many plans that are never done and it gives me the uncomfortable feeling of inadequacy. Perhaps I’ve been too vague for too long. I want to change it.

Yesterday, I visited the dentist to have my dentures fixed. Can you imagine that. Twenty two and getting dentures. It’s comical – I can sure endlessly poke myself with jokes about my premature aging. Add that to my arthritis and my reputed issue with quickly forgetting things.tumblr_o9xzkxmkze1s6umb7o1_1280

It was a dingy old room made almost entirely of wood – the kind that receives your footsteps with a thud. Outside, there’s a noisy machine kept perhaps to work the fan and ward off the heat. The room is divided into an examination room and a small reception area, cheaply decorated by a tv set and nominal upholstery. On the walls are pinned various modicums of brace advertisements, oral health posters and dentist certificates that could be more than five years old. It wasn’t that pleasant for a dentist’s office. But I liked it because it’s near my place.

The dentist was nice and not too chatty – perhaps I’d call it civil. “Where are you from?” “This may not be included in your insurance.” “Open. Bite. Grind.” The necessary small talk.

Now I am wearing an uncomfortable contraption in my mouth and I can’t eat properly. And when you can’t eat properly, that’s how you start to evaluate how bad your life had gotten.

I lost a friend the other month and from that, things just started to go existential. It was bad. Really bad. I never thought he would affect me that much. But he wasn’t being very nice and he really hurt me to the breaking point.

Mama and I went through some awkward fight recently. She does not have an inkling about my depression and when I burst, she blamed herself. The problem is, she’s blaming herself now and instead of comforting me, she just became one of the burdens that I have to keep. Now, I’m resolved to not say anything to her anymore. Nobody understands and people always take things to fuel their ego. They somehow always manage to own things and turn it into something about themselves. It’s suffocating.

My teeth aside, there’s a skewed fraction that I’m not sure can be overridden by any kind of denture. I’m sick. I am in desperate need of someone to talk to. Somebody who would take all their judgments aside and just listen to me cry and whine about how I don’t know how to deal with any of this anymore. I’m so tired. So tired.

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