Foreign metal

A small round bump felt through the thin layer of my head, followed by the lines of hair falling from it. The tiny nerve regrowing, remembering the foreigner that decided to stay. The trail lost but found behind the cliffs of my ear, hidden gently into my skin. But if you press hard enough, you can make out the tiny map of a memory, a painful reminder of reasons. These small features of myself will always be a mixed bag of emotions; the beauty of sound, yet the cruelty of a flaw. I’ve had my Cochlear Implant for almost eight years now. In all that time, I had moments of appreciation, of happiness towards having a second chance at hearing. But there were also moments of pure hatred, of this overwhelming feeling of crushing it with whatever blunt object I can find. I never quiet this outright, but I hate that in order for me to hear, I had to invite such foreign beings into my life. The same ones that cause me immense headaches, degrading looks from strangers, and the deterioration of my own confidence.


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