I’m Pointing at You

tune in tokyo
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It’s now apparent that my need for a pain-free existence supersedes my programming that I must adhere to decorum and not cause a ruckus. A nipples-the-size-of-Jujubes ruckus. Therefore, I will henceforth be going mostly bra-free.

About a year and a half ago, I had a quarter of my right lung and a non-cancerous tumor removed in a surgery that required cutting through a 20-year-old scar under my right breast. The first time the incision was made, it was to inflate a lung that had collapsed in a multi-fatality car accident; the second time, it was to deflate the same lung in order to perform the surgery. Suddenly, about fifteen months after the surgery, I started getting searing pains in the scar. Soon after, the pain began shooting through my breast and into my nipple, as if condensed heat energy was pooling and clamoring to exit.

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