There is a tiny crack along the edge of one of my front teeth. An edge of bonding applied years ago has chipped away, something apparent only to me, but I can feel it there, and in a rush of cold air, it stings. It's something I've been meaning to get fixed once I had insurance to cover it, which, as it turns out, is now.

Last night, after an evening out best characterized as bizarre, I fell into a slumber punctuated by crazy dreams, like a plot to steal a sofa (sure, I need a new one, but it's not exactly something I could tuck into my jacket and slink out of the store with), an illicit, inadvisable kiss among friends, and a disturbing incident involving my tooth. The rest of the bonding had fallen away. I felt the jagged edge with my tongue. Examining it in a mirror, I found it was not just the edge that was exposed, but the entire front surface of my tooth, revealing a strange metal framework. I was stunned at its androidal appearance, and the fact that I felt no pain. But I knew the pain would come. The metal underpinnings were delicate, and it would take little to disrupt them, and from there my agony would start.

Now how was I to deal with this? I searched the phone book for a dentist ready to tend to my crisis, but as soon as I flipped to the correct page, the names and numbers vanished from it. I made calls, and someone answered, but they said nothing, as if they were hiding from me, a little joke. I wondered how I would brush my teeth to avoid the fractured, fragile member. I went to my mother to express my distress at my situation; she simply shrugged. My vulnerable state seemed cause for alarm to no one but me.

I think I know what this means. I'm fragile like that. And I'm not sure anyone really knows, I'm not sure anyone really understands. I'm not sure I won't have to continue to deal with it alone, and I'm not sure that isn't how it's supposed to be.