Dear Planet Earth,
Pain. Blinding, striking, unrelenting pain. It consumes me, taunts me without words, chews on me without teeth.
Iâ€™ve heard of pain like this. Iâ€™ve heard my grandfather complain of such a feeling in his hands. It followed him all the way into death, forming an image in my mind of an unearthly malady beyond simpleÂ arthritis. I feel like that old man. I feel like ten old men.
They gave me drugs â€” morphine or codeine or some other â€œineâ€ â€” the first few days here at the hospital, but then the supplies became scarce and they decided a kid like me â€” practically a man â€” with a single bullet wound didnâ€™t need that much painkiller. So, now Iâ€™m the painkiller. And Iâ€™m losing.
They left me with 50 cc of painine and the possibility of never walking again. I sound bitter, like an old man, but I donâ€™t know how else to feel.Â I was shot in the leg by aÂ mole man. I was shot in the leg by a mole man and I canâ€™t think of anything but the tingling, tormenting fire in every inch of my body.
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