I now have titanium metal plates screwed in my skull.

If I didn't undergo reconstructive surgery my left cheekbone'd relocate to my jawline by the time I reach twenty-five. Broke the left side of my skull from the eyebrow to the ocular thingamashit, to the cheekbone and jaw hinge, shifting my teeth in their places. The surgeon incised from my left lower eyelid and gumline, and crawled his way into my bones and did what he makes a living out of, which is fiddling on human flesh like Play Doh.

Doc rearrange my teeth, rather granting me malocclusion with twisted fangs on both my maxilla and mandible. Eating is a bitch. Kissing is a bitch. Fellating is a bitch. Can't part my teeth beyond two fingers. Smiling is a bitch. Laughing is bitchier. Having an orgasm is the bitchiest.XP Goddamnfuckingjesuschrist.

Life is glum without laughter, and orgasms. I'm exercising my will power to look sullen, deep, and mysterious, matched with dark bumblebee sunglasses that gives you the impression I'm some superficial passe social climber.

I lost my dimple.

Left side of my face is swollen and insensate. Hack my face with a blade and I won't even wince. Anesthesiologist plugged a tube up my right nose hole, which means, my right nasal tract is now spacier than my left.

Long story short, I'm now a monster.

We moved to a new apartment so far away which is next door.

My creative nonfiction essay will be published in an anthology, Ampersand, meaning the "&" sign, on December 2008 by UP Press.o_0 The article is sucky, really, because the original content was reduced to about 36.7%, due to space constraints. A snippet:

Think of the word "I". In your mind, "I" is the totality of yourself: your repressed childhood memories, your experiences from cradle to grave, your atomic and anatomical structure, your complex emotions, your thoughts and imaginations and dreams and aspirations. It would take a thousand writers to summarize your "I" in a library of books. Your "I" is an entire universe of its own. In reality, "I" is just an intelligent monkey wearing clothes. In words, "I" is just black pixels in the shape of a vertical line. Ideas, reality, words: the person you love isn't the same person who loves you isn't the same person represented by the word 'person.' The whole is not equal to the sum of its parts. The truth is, a triangular sandwich tastes better than a rectangular one.

But the original article is suckier anyway because I just kept on rambling and going around in circles and rombuses.XP

Word did you say?

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