Moments from a life

He pulls me in,  for a hug just a hug even though I would have avoided it if I could His arms are strong for a small man and as I try to pull away he holds me still He puts his face into my neck and I feel sick. I want to disappear; let the parts of me he took disintegrate beneath his fingertips Man, boy, can't you see the fear in my eyes? But his are windows into an empty room reflecting only the things I do not wish to see I tremble and he laughs I understand the dark voids in which girls hide. ___ Sometimes I wonder how people cannot read others. How they cannot tell, even from a glance, whether they are ok. If they are afraid; uncomfortable. Do they sense it, and simply choose to ignore it? Or are they blind to all except their desires? I may never understand. For now, I can only sit here, amongst the fields and the haystacks, and try to let the breeze wash away these heavy feelings.

  There must have been about three sets of hands around my face. Two angling and pushing firmly, one trying their utmost to pull and twist my deep-set, back-left tooth out of its socket. Someone on Reddit had commented on a tooth extraction thread about the slightly strange, uncomfortable, squeaky sounds that I was now experiencing, and how they tried imagining them as trees blowing in the wind. I began picturing the situation not as trees, but as myself being a scuba diver, scanning a shipwreck in the ocean depths, and coming across old chests and trying to pry them open. Suddenly, after one huge last pull (they were truly struggling), it was out. As I bit down on some gauze to help with the bleeding, the dentist asked if I'd like to keep the tooth.  It was so big. "Four roots!" she told me. I asked her if that was normal. "Both normal and abnormal", she laughed. Herein lies a gaping hold in the back of my mouth.