A Migraine

Sitting here in the dark with my eyes closed and my head lying softly against the wall. The echoes of a bass drum pounding linger inside of my head. The pressure is building as my head starts to split. Or so I think. The breeze of cold air from the vent brings some peace to the pain. Although I know the thermostat will soon kick-off. “Man, I hate these headaches,” I think to myself but the thunderous echoes seem to drown out my own thoughts. The music in the background is zen and peaceful but barely noticeable. A small void of light appears through the semi-transparent layers of flesh that make up my eyelids. Someone has opened my door. “I wonder who it is,” this is the thought that crosses my mind until the silhouette speaks. “Are you alright? Do you need anything?” I hear my mother call from what seems like miles away. “I will be fine mom but thank you for checking on me,” I say optimistically knowing that the worst has yet to come. The door closes and the light that was like a sword piercing my mind is gone. The track playing in the background finishes and starts to repeat its nature and water like melody. “God, I wish these migraine’s would stop,” I say aloud but it sounds like a whisper in my own ears. “At least my eyes haven’t started bleeding again,” I think to myself with hope in mind. I feel the pressure building in my head increase again, this time by quite a lot. I feel the vessels in my eyes start to swell. The pain becomes numbing and it is like I can’t feel a thing but the cool liquid now flowing from my tightly shut eyes. “I knew this would happen again,” I think in a hate-filled tone. “What did I do to deserve this!” I scream to myself in silent whispers. Every muscle in my body has tightened and I cannot move, I tell my mind to move my arm so I can pick up the dampened washcloth that is sitting beside me but my mind is non-responsive. The liquid that I feared identity has been revealed. Just as I expected, blood, the taste of it seeps through the edges of my mouth. ‘God, I hate this feeling of helplessness and hopelessness,” I think to myself in now in pessimistic tones. I wish that I could just sleep but I know that this pain will not let me. “I wish the morphine capsules that the doctor gave me would kick in,” I say to myself. Maybe then I would have some relief. The blood has now dried and my eyes have matted shut. The pain has become so numbing now that I start to shake. My mind becomes blank and my eyes open. I am staring into darkness but I can’t feel anything. The blood from my face is gone and the echoes are as well. “What happened? Where am I?” I say aloud. “I can hear myself,” I think to myself without the echoes getting in the way. Maybe my prayers have been answered. I doubt it though because this happens every time. I know that I am only asleep. The pain was so much that my mind cracked and my mind shut completely down. I know that when I wake up from this pain induced coma the medication would have kicked in and the migraine will be gone but I will be sick to my stomach and the taste of blood will linger for a few days. “Man I hat the taste of iron,” I say to myself as I walk around in the short lasted peace that I am guaranteed.1