Narrator's POV
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Pooping.
Ah, what a beautiful thing.
What is more blissful and satisfactory than a good dump?
Especially if there was a long period of time sitting, the feeling of releasing the gates sends shivers up the spine.
A bathroom break after an upset stomach, when the belly rumbles in an indecipherable language, gurgling, and gargling, is simply a trip to heaven. When all of it just comes out, the bad or the good, it feels as if losing a couple of pounds of stress, and of course, poop.
Or simply a normal squat on the toilet, which is still a beautiful thing.
The worst experience is the feeling of wanting to poop yet being unable to do so.
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It is tittering and tottering on a line of simultaneous bliss and torture.
It's so close, yet so far away.
Being in between two polar emotions can place the mind in disarray, into a mental mess. But what has to be done has to be done, no matter the cost.
Everyone has been there at some point.
In the diaper?
Check.
In the toilet?
Check.
In the portable toilet?
Check.
In an abandoned, sketchy toilet out in the middle of nowhere?
Check.
In the pants?
Check.
In the forest?
That's a check for Sal.
In the public?
…Well, that may be a check for some of the readers.
Regardless of when and where the urges will never stop and they will never cease.
As long as we eat, we poop. As long as we poop, we eat.
That's the law by which (almost) every animal abides.
And yet why do we feel shame in such a normal, everyday deed?
Why feel mortification from the natural process of the body?
Why does the face flush brighter than the blistering sun, the ear tinged with crimson? Why does the face become hot like boiling water bubbling and rising, sweating like the countless droplets of precipitation formed by the billowing steam? Why does the throat constrict upon realization, the voice stammer, stuttering more viciously than starting the engine up of a rusted car?
Why the shame, the embarrassment?
Ah, one of the world's greatest questions.
What does pooping mean to you?