Drill

A drill whirred in my hand; I pulled the trigger to note the sound. A sharp drill bit spun, and I thought of the possibilities. How much pain would I incur by placing this spinning bit of metal into my temporal lobe? More than I could imagine, I figured, and as stupid as the thought of putting a spinning drill bit through my skull was, I still thought of doing so, for some godforsaken reason. When I pondered the situation, I couldn’t help but to conclude: God had forsaken me. The problem for humans is the hope that things will get better…and they never do. Day after day, year after year, the biting pain just becomes a monotonous glob of discomfort.

And so, a drill whirred in my hand.

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