When I was little, Justin and I used to play a game we called "Mercy." Mercy involved bending the other player's hand back at the wrist in an effort to touch the fingers to the forearm - until the pain became too much and the player called, "Mercy!"
Mercy meant "Stop, it's hurting too much." Mercy meant, "You with the upper hand, please take pity on me." Mercy meant, "I can't take anymore." Mercy meant, "I give up - you win." Mercy was about finding a threshold, the fine line between tolerance and intolerance. Mercy was a plea.
And now, I find myself emotionally bent backwards. Just when I thought the worst was over, I feel my fingers touching my forearm, everything in my wrist tight to the point of breaking.
Mercy. Please, please, mercy.
Monday, October 29, 2007
Side Effects: Mercy
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
4 cat calls:
There shouldn't be a need to say mercy. Come back. We miss you. I believe the senior copywriter position is calling your name.
: ( Lovely post. hopefully after this you'll realize you were much more flexible than you thought. even if you need a wristbrace and some advil.
:( Let's hope that the universe will hear you cry mercy and give you a rest! I'm sorry that things are getting tougher before they are getting better. I'll be thinking of you.
Post a Comment