when I had my wisdom teeth removed, I asked only for novocaine because I wanted to know what was going on. so I heard the grinding bone. I tasted the blood. I felt the intense pressure and searing pain as tooth was wrenched from jaw. then there were the infections. chipmunk-face for ten weeks with rubber tubes draining rancid into my mouth. more needles spending quality time in my nerve bed so the oral surgeon could play explorer in my jaw.
just like pulling teeth. that's how writing my own recommendation letter is. positive self-evaluative comments and I do not part ways easily. seriously, I can taste the blood. tell me to criticize myself and I could write you a book. tell me to feign delusions of grandeur and I could equate myself with a god. but ask me to list my good qualities - and be serious about it - and I draw a blank. there must be some in there, somewhere. after all, I am the person who leaves her shoes in the middle of the hall, puts the empty milk carton back in the fridge, drums her fingers incessantly, is infuriatingly oblivious and sometimes forgets to speak, and yet, people seem to tolerate me.
one day soon, this will be all over and I can retreat back into my hole where I belong.