scratch

MY CLOCK TELLS ME IT’S ALREADY ONE FIFTEEN in the morning. it’s a really cool clock.; red against the pale pink wall. there are no numbers on its face, just markers so you could tell the time. cobwebs were already formed, which seem very eager to stop the arms of the clock from turning. eager to stop the time. well i hope they can.

this post has nothing to do with clocks or cobwebs (which i might say are more persuasive than my mother when it comes to cleaning my room). my insomnia seems to have gotten worse as the days pass. sometimes, i find myself unconsciously, looking blankly at my clock, desperately hoping it could doze me off to sleep. so lame of me.

three nights ago, i finally felt drowsy and sleepy at around 9 o’clock in the evening. i would be sleeping early! (woohoo!) it was a good sign, i thought, that my body had finally found my circadian rhythm again. not yet.

the universe seems to conspire and prevent me from having a goodnight sleep. i was on my comfy bed under my blankets, warm against the cold brought by my air conditioning unit. with damien rice on mp3 player, i finally dozed off to sleep. i was really optimistic that i would be having a sweet dream that night (no more me pulling my teeth out), but no sweet dreams nor nightmares for me, but something worse. something more difficult to tolerate than pain…

i felt an itch on my chest…then an immediate action….an impulse….an instinct…

scratch…scratch…scratch…

feels really good to scratch something itchy, like having a sore, decayed tooth removed, or successfully squeezing a big pustule of a boil in your butt or acne on your face.

scratch…scratch…scratch….

i could imagine my face while doing it. it was like being on a weird sexual plateau.

scratch…scratch…scratch…

i was thankful i didn’t cut my fingernails short yet. i was very equipped to give every itch a good, satisfying scratch…

scratch…scratch…scratch…

but something went wrong. every scratch of the itch felt great at first, but the itchiness seemed to notice that i was enjoying myself. perhaps, it realized that i do not deserve such pleasure. the itchiness had gone worse, up to the point that scratching became ineffective. the more i scratched, the more the itch grew worse…

scratch…scratch…scratch…

the itchiness had to stop. i need to sleep… but my hands seem to act on their own accord…

scratch…scratch…scratch…

the itchiness won’t budge. it won’t let me sleep.

scratch…scratch…scratch…

then, the itchiness spread throughout my body like wildfire, metastasizing like cancer on to my neck, abdomen, my armpits…

scratch…scratch…scratch…

then, my back, my pubes, my ass…

scratch…scratch…scratch…

it devoured my thighs, my legs. ..

scratch…scratch…scratch…

it consumed almost every surface and crevice of my body, leaving me helpless, and a slave to my own long-finger nailed hands…

scratch…scratch…scratch…

i couldn’t do anything with it except to scratch. the red clock was bearing witness to my struggle and it just hung there, indifferent, listening to my every whimper. the itchiness now seemed to be beyond my skin…

scratch…scratch…scratch…till grew tired and fell asleep.

it was ten in the morning the next day; the same itchiness woke me up. i ran to the bathroom in a desperate attempt to wash it away with soap and water. and i stood there facing the bathroom mirror. grossed out. my chest and abdomen were so inflamed, as if someone had deliberately sprayed me with red paint. dark red spots could be seen around my arm pits, and my back was graffitied with clusters of red islands. i could see the scratch marks all over my body. for the first time, i felt the pain from the where the skin had broken. i took a bath, while suffering the sting of soap and water against the impaired integrity of my skin. then, i immediately ran to the drugstore to buy celestamine—an anti-inflammatory, anti-allergic, and anti-pruritic drug. i was having an allergy i should have known better.

allergic reactions are caused by allergens—substances considered foreign by the body and which triggers the body’s defenses by releasing chemical substances in the bloodstream, mainly histamine, which causes the redness, inflammation, and itchiness--in medical term, pruritus. antihistimines, like celestamine, usually counteracts allergic reactions. but what caused my allergy? i blamed my facial and chest hairs (which i have no plans of shaving), my bed sheets (i changed them immediately), the safeguard soap (i switched back to belo), and the egg i ate that night (i doubt this is the culprit. i love eggs.), but until now the itchiness is still there, less severe though, due to my medication. global warming didn’t help either (like it has any benefits). hot temperature and sweating seem to aggravate my condition. when i sweat i could actually feel the creeping sensation the itch makes, followed by goose bumps that usually starts from my neck to my upper extremities, forcing my hands to scratch. but i know better now. i cut may nails very short (so short they now hurt too) to prevent myself from making further damage on my skin…

it’s now 3:10 on the clock, and i could now feel an itch developing on my neck again. how i wish i could scratch it this one time. but no. i guess i will just now take my medication and hopefully unconsciousness would take me soon…

scratch…scratch…scratch…