Eat the Pain

I am sick of spitting out my emotional pain. Flinging it away and pretending it never existed is counter productive.
From now on I am going to eat that pain. If I eat it, I own it and if I own it I can control it.
I will swallow every snub, insult, every damning comment. Let them enter my esophagus, gurgle their silly inanities, then slide into my tummy where the digestive juices of my confidence will dissolve them into squishy fluid my small intestine can handle. Then onto my large intestine, where it will be further broken down and sent to my colon. I will expel this poison into the atmosphere in the form of a perfect fart.
Now let's discuss this shoulder pain. If you have long, strong, massaging fingers and can assuage my bursitis, you can disparage me  any way you wish. And I promise I won't pass wind during the process.

Pain

Pain is sneaky, ruthless, humbling.
It waits until just the right time to strike--when you are in the shower, getting out of bed, eating, talking, stretching, dressing. It senses your fear and takes full advantage.
Describing it brings grimaces from those you love, so you clam up and suffer. And wait for tomorrow, hoping pain is bored and attacks someone else.
Giving in to pain is not humiliating. it makes akk the sense in the world. Pain is telling you that you were having too much fun.