'I wonder if my wound will ever heal. Perhaps the doctor didn't give me enough stitches. Once in a while, I try to test myself, by pushing the wound to its limits. Often, I overestimate the stitches' strength, and when they cannot take it, blood ends up gushing out of the gap. And when it does, all I can do is sit there and cry in agony for help, to anyone who is willing to listen. Gradually the blood retreats, the pain subsides, and the stitches try to pull the skin back to each other again. On and off, these relapses occur. I wonder when the day will arrive when I need not be subjected to such occurences. My greatest fear is the wound never being able to heal. The incision was made five weeks ago, and for normal people, it usually takes less than three weeks for the wound to subside. There may be occasional pain thereafter, but the intensity is definitely much reduced than when the cut was first made. Mine is a terror. The pain I feel these days is tantamount to what I felt the first week, or even more. Perhaps it's my fault for not taking good care of it, exposing the wound to unnecessary hurt, and perhaps causing even greater infection.

I'm not a good patient. I broke all of my doctors' rules (I have many doctors), and always try and test to see how strong I really am. Heh, but each time, I fail miserably. All my doctors keep telling me the same thing, telling me to stay away from things that can be hazardous to my wound. But I never listen. I've seen countless doctors already, but each can only prescribe a temporary painkiller that kills the pain only for that moment. Some doctors' prescription last longer than others, but nevertheless, all medication comes to an end. And when the end of it arrives, so does the pain. I need a long term solution. Literally. The kind that you can get from the apothecary.

A storm continues to rage within my mind. It's churning and chomping, creating a hell of a turbulence. A whirlwind builds up, and the winds continue to howl as the waters culminate to greater heights, bringing about the destruction of vital parts of the mind. The heart is not spared either. It feels as if a spear with a thousand metal hooks has striked hard into it, twisted and turned, wrenching slices of meat out before tugging the whole spear out of the organ. This is done several times, each time more severe than the other. But the heart is smart, it has outwitted the spear. It decides to give up feeling, so that nothing can cause it to hurt anymore. But the ultimate question still remains: What good is a heart if it cannot feel?'

U're so close, yet so far. *cries* Lost.

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