‘You’ll get used to it.” They said, and I waited. I waited for that Cat on a Hot Tin Roof click in my head that would mean it had settled into background noise.
But it never came.
Not for the seams on my socks, or the band of my bra, or the brace for my teeth or the glasses on my nose. Not for the elastic on my arms, or the lump in my sole. Not for the small pains or the big ones.
“You’ll desensitise with time.” They said.
So I gave it time.
More and more ticks and tocks, I poured them all into the deepening, widening hole of time. I gave it a year, then ten, then twenty, then thirty, and more. I gave it patience and space. I used distraction and all my tricks.
But still it stayed.
“There,” they said, “I told you all it…
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