The Bloody Doors Off

You know when you dream your teeth fall out?

Everyone’s had at least one.

Part of the psychic gestalt.

Everyone dreams of flying.

Everyone has nightmares of spitting teeth out of your mouth.

I’m currently living that nightmare.

My teeth, for lack of a better term, are fucked.

The two front teeth feel like they could come out at any time.

I have a partial tooth that needs to be fixed.

I’ve had a couple of back teeth pulled because they couldn’t save them.

Back in April, a client I’m contracted with wrote that they were trying to get a position created so they could hire me full-time. They were aiming for end of the month.

That was two months ago.

And not a word since.

I could really use that full-time gig. Even moreso now for the dental plan.

I take full responsibility for my teeth. I didn’t take good enough care of them.

Fuck, there’s a weird energy in my chest as I write this.

It was just as bad as when I finally opened up to Marlo about this.

Though she already knew.

How could she not?

It felt better, talking with her.

I guess I was hoping.

I’d feel better saying it out loud.

Guess not.

Yes, I’m going to the dentist.

I’m preparing for the worst.

Hoping for the best seems counter-intuitive.

That worth five cents?