A minor irritation is how it starts. A rub along the brow and a firm press on the sides almost fixes it. Important tasks take precedence over a throbbing head – emails to be replied too, statuses to be updated. And before you know it, as if it were out of nowhere, the feeble ache is a full blown attack of a wrench on a human skull, with the mind and body teetering on the brinks of impending nausea.
It starts right between the eyebrows, radiating towards the back of the head – an invisible belt of pain, such mind numbing pain. A whisper becomes a shout, shouts reach summits hitherto unexperienced and the rumbling cacophony of traffic 8 floors below feels like death itself.
Walking hurts, talking hurts, listening hurts.
There is this sudden urge, a desperate wish, to mute the entire world around and sit in such perfect heavenly silence to concentrate on the pain, hoping against hope to feel it rescind, back to where it came from, back into the nothingness. But no, such pleasures are not to be.
Food doesn’t help. Fresh air doesn’t help. An Aspirin doesn’t help. Caffiene doesn’t help.
A bullet to the head might.
So all I need now is a bullet. And a gun. And a person to pull the darn trigger and put me out of my misery.