EVANESCENCE
desensitize
by Les Cañete
Dear Eula Bliss,
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Caught in a count from zero to ten, I cling to the calm of five but wonder if this middle ground is a mark of mediocrity or a mask of complacency.
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Pain, in its essence, is profoundly personal—a visceral torrent that can engulf our very core. Yet, it's often stripped to a sterile score. When asked to gauge my agony from zero to ten, I drift towards five, a haven neither in hell nor healing. It's a harbor in the stormy sea of suffering, yet I ponder its place.
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In truth, I stall at five because I don't fully understand what I feel. It’s a safe number to select, a middle ground that avoids the extremes. The violent chaos of my past, like my father’s drunken rages, has numbed me. His beatings, relentless and routine, have left me unable to measure my pain accurately. I've become accustomed to violence, and this familiarity has blurred my ability to gauge my true suffering.
Deep within, there's a drive to defy this average number. I yearn to be seen as more than a median mark because I know how vile violence truly is. The struggle against the tyranny of the typical is a quest for recognition of my raw, real worth. It's a battle to reclaim the right to define my own depth.
Yet, the violence has desensitized me to the point where my pain almost feels like nothing.
Best,
Les