I’m sure it didn’t hurt, did it? When you so casually kicked me out of your life, I bet you didn’t feel the slightest amount of pain, remorse or sadness.
I stuck with you for 22 years, and never once complained about anything. In spite of your neglect, even your indifference, I was happy to do your dirty work for you, and trust me, it was indeed dirty work. If you think it wasn’t, try taking my place for a day.
Yet, I was there, always, whenever you needed me, without a thought for myself. Think back and tell me, when was I ever not there for you?
How was I to know that you would one day discard me like an old shoe, my only fault being imperfection? You, with all your faults and fallacies, have the damn gall to separate me from yourself because I’m not flawless?
And whose fault is it, pray tell me, that I’m not perfect today? Mine? Certainly not. It was you who always took me for granted. If you had been a little more considerate back when all the trouble between us began, I wouldn’t be lying here today, broken and lonely.
Believe me, it was never my intention to be a bother. But what happened all those years ago was beyond my control. It was your responsibility to set it right, and you know that as well as I do. But you chose instead to turn a blind eye, and were content to think that our problems would go away if you didn’t look at them.
And look where it has led. A beautiful association of 22 years has culminated in such a brutal separation. And all because you thought you were too good for me.
How could you? That is what really I want to ask. Not whether it hurt, not if it was bothersome, but how on earth could you do this to me?
But you won’t forget me, I’m telling you. Even though I’m gone, we both know that I’ve left behind a chasm, rather a gaping wound which you won’t forget. Oh, maybe it’ll heal, but what I’m talking about is the memories I’ll leave behind.
Even if you do find someone who might eventually take my place, you will never forget me. Because I, Mr. Perfectionist, am the original; and anyone else you get to do my job will be little more than a replacement, a substitute, a cheap imitation.
So go on. May you always be happy and successful in your life. I want you to know that I only wish the best for you, even though I feel a deep resentment towards you for the way you have betrayed me. I’m prepared to part ways sensibly, if not lovingly, even as I lie here in five pieces. Yes, five.
I can still visualize you, sitting back in that comfortable chair, feeling no pain whatsoever, while I was being yanked away from you, disconnected from the man who was my purpose, the very reason for my existence. I was being torn apart, and you were blissfully unaware of it, under the influence of that hated drug.
But always remember, a real tooth is a real tooth. It was me who helped you crunch all those nuts and chew all those bones with great relish, and no fake tooth, however superior in quality, is going to be quite like me. Because, and who better to know this but a perfectionist like you, there is nothing like the real thing.
-- Dedicated to my Dentist, as it was on her Dental Chair, getting my tooth pulled out, that I got the inspiration for this one, while she was tussling with a particularly stubborn root.
