I punctured my right hand last night during one of our activities and now I'm finding myself doing mundane stuff using my left hand: shampooing my hair, washing dishes, texting. It's not really a big wound, but it doesn't mean that it doesn't hurt. Using the hand that I was using for at least 98% of my current life was giving me slight discomfort - exactly like a good friend who betrays you, but in a more physical sense this time. Unless he betrayed you by puncturing your right hand. You can't get any more pain than that.
This semester, I think I cried and felt sad more than the past 15 years of my life combined. The weird part of it was that at first, I really didn't know what I was being sad about. I took months, friends and alcohol (specifically beergin - an infamous mix that Shao, our bartender, concocted one birthday ago) to even get a grip on what was happening to me. I was blinded by love, fraternal and that other kind. The one that causes good songs to be written. Now I know that to love, sometimes you have to not love.
I thought I knew what I was supposed to be doing. I thought I had chosen a path. In truth, I was fighting with myself. I didn't want that path. I didn't want to do that. My friends (you know who you are) opened my eyes, showed me the way. They're helping me walk it too. I don't think I can thank them enough...so here's another one: Thank You.
For my right hand, be well. I hope you know what I did for you.
Learning to use my left hand for everything. It's weird and hard at first, but I'll eventually get used to it. I hope.
No comments:
Post a Comment