Aral

You wake up,

And for the first seven moments, as your lungs adjust to deeper breaths, as your eyes lazily crawl into focus, as your muscles remember yesterday’s strain,

The world is warm, slightly sunny, and filled with the unique possibilities of ‘today.’

But it changes.

Something creeps in.

An unsettling in your stomach.

Your legs barely cramp in dejected anticipation.

And you feel it exactly where it always is.

Your head.

It aches,

Starts in waves, long, drawn-out ocean waves.

It is a muted pain,

You lie there in bed, extra still.

You think:

Stay calm stay calm. Deep breaths. I can think it away. Just think. Think and relax.

Though it has never worked, you try it again.

You don’t want to be dependent on the drug.

You don’t want to be like that.

It’s a bad way to be.

You want to be independent.

You don’t want to use the goddamn drug every fucking morning.

Then you remember that you were staying calm, taking deep breaths, and relaxing.

It isn’t working.

The pressure builds.

Your hand traces the vein or artery or whatever in your right temple.

That’s where it always is.

Your right temple.

Your cold fingertips provide minimal relief to the area.

You try pressing, you try not pressing.

You try hot and cold.

You relax some more.

And the more you attempt relaxation, the more the headache builds.

You think about the future.

How can I go to school like this?

What if something important happens?

I can’t learn like this, I can’t think I can’t concentrate.

I should get up and take the drug.

No, relax and breathe and relax and be calm and breathe deeply and relax and relax.

And it hurts a little more.

Ok ok ok, I’ll shower.

The warm water feels good, not just on your temple, but in general.

It persists.

And the water washes over it, leaving it as unscathed as you wish you were.

By the time you dry off, its bad.

Its bad.

Pulsing regularly.

The pressure is surprising.

You check the left side of your head to see if you can feel a difference.

You never can.

But you have to check.

It could be something else this time, maybe.

You need to take the drug.

You think to yourself

I need to take the drug.

You press the plunger,

You inhale,

You wait...wait a little bit, you know it'll get better

Thats the third time today, third time in one day.

It hurts, take the drug, hurts it is hurting wait, is it, yeah,

drug