Ulcer.

If there is one thing I really hate, it's mouth ulcers. I had a gigantic one in my mouth over the last few days. It interfered with my eating, talking, drinking, breathing through my mouth, sleeping, and pretty much everything that involved moving the muscles of my mouth and face.

Now, I am a self admitted masochist. But I like a very particular type of pain, that is, intentional and immediate. Not passive and constant. Running a marathon does not turn me on.

So with this huge sore, I had had quite enough. So I took my tooth brush and scrubbed all the infected tissue right off. It feels a lot better now. Less like something is eating the inside of my mouth, more like a pretty girl slapped me very hard in the teeth.

Anyway, this whole thing is pretty much a metaphor for my life at the moment, that I can't be bothered more cleverly veiling like I usually do with these kind of stories I tell you. Right now, I'm carrying a lot of dead weight that is going to be hard to let go of, and as soon as it is gone, it will transform my stress of lethargy, which eats away at my physical and mental health and takes the joy out of the things I love, to the stress of activity, which sharpens me up and makes me better, and happier with myself.

I just need to get in there with my metaphorical toothbrush and, gross as it is, scrub that fucker till I cry.

Oh, and I really did have an ulcer. I didn't make that up for convenience.