First let me start this of by saying I am in pain. I stabbed myself.
With a toothbrush.
It's true. I drew blood with a toothbrush. Not gingivitis "I need you to start flossing, Mr. Bratcher" blood, but forceful stabbing induced blood. Somehow I managed to miss all of my teeth and ram Ol' Bristly straight into the flap of skin that connects the underside of my tongue to the rest of my body. Yeah. Go ahead and laugh. Good thing I wasn't clipping coupons, or I'd be typing this with only seven fingers (do people tell the "those are thumbs, not fingers" joke after fifth grade?)So I immediately pull Ol' Bristly out and look at the little flap of skin and, hoo yeah, bleeding. It took less time than I expected for what little toothpaste I managed to get into my mouth before oral hari-kari to mingle with the open wound and cause more pain than you'd think toothpaste could. I mean, c'mon, it's toothpaste. I rinse my mouth out and commence brushing gingerly. Now it stings a bit when I talk and when I eat, but the worst is I keep tonguing it. This feat is surprising to myself because I didn't realize that I could lick the underside of my tongue. But I can, and I've been doing it all day. It reminds me of losing my teeth as a kid. You'd pop one out and for the next few weeks every slow moment you'd find yourself tonguing the hole where the tooth was because something's different. The tongue must get lonely to be so obsessive over every new little thing.
Somehow I don't think this will heal any time soon.
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