By Heather Ann Pulido
Yesterday, on the dental chair, I contemplated the intricacies of loving and leaving: You are loving me (more than I thought I’d ever be loved). But you are leaving me (and this country of dead-end jobs). I am loving you (more than I’ve ever loved before). But I am leaving you (because I’m sick of getting left in the middle of nowhere, the address of all promises). Every time I went to my dentist, I knew I was going to get hurt. But I went anyway. I went dutifully, month after month after month. “Soon, you’ll have a perfect smile,” she would say. “You just need to live with this pain.”
Heather Ann Pulido is a Language and Literature graduate student at the University
of the Philippines. Her work has been published in the Philippine anthologies Ani and Kimata.
