OMG My Teeth!

“(In a sing-songy voice) You are what you eat; you are what you eat; you are what you eat”, said one of my wisdom teeth, smeared and covered in dark chocolate, trying to bring me (and itself) out of the chocolate bubble. This was right after I had had my salad, so yes, there was another one of them holding onto the last fragment of spinach, hardly trying not to say goodbye to the last piece of the salad.


Maybe I was “spinach dipped in chocolate”. Honestly, it’s a very weird (and gross) combination, but I will take it. 


For me, the combination was clearly bad; there’s no kidding here. But for the painfully grown teeth at the very back of my jawline, progressing as if a sculptor had been hitting the skull daily to make a space, it was worse; worse than growing the teeth in the first place. 


Its tendency to hold on and stick around tiny fragments of eaten items never really stopped. Someday it was constantly trying to paste the popcorn onto itself, someday it was a wall of colors with gummy bears. This had to end the hard way: harder than the daily night brushing, harder than watching the dramatic exit of the spinach forced to drop dead, the final coating of the chocolate being unraveled, the flood of mouthwash drowning the popcorn, and the gummy bear saying “bye-bye” to the gums. It ended with the beginning of the cavity. 


The mission of drinking hot tea and iced coffee without a nerve-wracking sigh became impossible, and despite practicing the age-old formula of beating cavity: brush your teeth twice a day, my teeth’s obsession with being attached to used things made us both miserable. The voice was no longer sing-songy acting like the protagonist of an action movie saving the girl; it was groaning with distress and pain. 


“Let go.” It said to the other ones holding onto pieces of food items, eerily wanting for the betterment of the remaining teeth. And although this fantasy conversation of my teeth was taking place inside my mouth, I wasn’t unaware of the voices of the recently-became-wise wisdom tooth. And turns out, it wasn’t just my teeth trying to be spiderman sticking around everywhere. I, too, was the same. 


The entirety of time, I was a spider-man shooting invisible webs and (dyingly) hanging myself to the past. Not to mention, I was holding on to a terrible food choice combination. Running in circles, I also had coated myself in the gullibility of the past. Mistrust was like a thick caramel sticking onto every aspect of my life, and the cavity I had developed around the melancholic walls of my presence—like the dental ones—was too scared of warmth. And, all this happened because I was clinging on and constantly remaining attached to the aspects of my life which didn’t make sense anymore. I was having a hard time letting go of things. Be it my drawbacks at academic rigor, my philosophical shortcomings, getting overly attached made every other accomplishment less significant. 


Like the woman who just trimmed her hair (at home, by herself, watching the most brutal tutorials) and is having a melt-down swallowing every remaining piece of cake and cookie, I stayed there out of the dental room with my wisdom tooth taken out (it was more cavity, and less the tooth), when the decayed portion made the look of a smiley face. It might have also been the Pareidolia kicking in, but nevertheless, the wisdom tooth struck once again. 


I was what I ate. The problem was I was eating unhealthy things. I was devouring hopelessness, voraciously gobbling up the violence of the past and reliving them as the sad teenager of an American movie. I had to let go. Because, sometimes, no matter how much you are affected by something, getting too attached might be fatal. My tooth learned that the hard way, and so did I (Dental removal is painful).


And no, it wasn’t a language understandable enough when my half-dead tooth said that.

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