Nothing makes someone with a migraine angrier than not being able to get the pill out of the fucking foil.
I just ripped down the collage I put on the wall by my bed because I’m sick of lying here and staring at it all the fucking time. I’m sick of this room, this bed, the smell of this house. My rotten skull.
Sir made me a beautiful double-sided playlist (like a tape). Peace Of Mind by Boston was on it. Nightswimming by REM. I realized how long i’ve been doing this. “‘I’m alive,’ she cried, ‘but I don’t know what it means.'” He had to turn it off because I curled into a ball and started wailing. Now he’s asleep.
And I’m awake at exactly midnight, the humidity hanging in the air and the moon almost full. And I’ve had this same headache for about 5 days, never getting severe enough to go to the hospital, but I am on my fourth Imitrex in 24 hours and I’ve taken 8 Zanaflex since 10 pm. It is like an agonizing fog with sharp edges. I just want to sleep. For a long, long time. And maybe I can hang out there, in sleep land, and be free of the shackles that pierce my stupid brain, my veins, pointy and jagged and always, always reminding me: we are here. And we will make you hurt in outwardly undetectable ways nearly every day for the rest of your life.
I sort of can’t believe I haven’t gone totally insane.