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THE ARM (how could you do this to me?) - act 1

Out in the wild, an injured leg or just paw bring about a quick exit from life. Hunting or foraging becomes difficult and soon after the predator turns into prey.

Mankind has many flaws but limb injuries don't automatically mean an early death. They just transform living into a quasi-continuous experience of pain combined with sharp bursts of despair.

This is even before dropping everything, realizing that lifting a paper towel is pretty hard and stains are the very sign of regression to baby-style eating.

No one is totally in love with their body, but there must have always been an amicable relationship with the right arm, if born right-handed. After all, it's there for so many small and big actions.

To have that right arm become  a disobedient and quarrelous servant, a traitor in one's own camp, that is so unfair. Double unfair, actually.

Firstly, to its twin limb, now forced to do a crash course in tasks previously unknown (yes, wiping is among them). Then it's unfair to the rest of the body, thrown out of balance by the inert limb. 

Physical confusion seeps into mental one. Pain amplifies it. Small sins like sitting around doing nothing look virtuous, solidified by the thought "I'm resting my arm". The road to self-victimisation is paved with slabs of giving up effort.

How can anyone still like their right arm when it makes life so difficult? tbc





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