aches

The ache begins in my fingers then trails up my arm, through my wrists, and into my shoulders. The muscles in my back feel like they are burning. Then the burning turns into a tightness. This slowly pulls down on my neck. My head tries to fight the pull so instead, a throbbing pain ignites on my left temple. I wish it would end here but it doesn’t. It starts to creep behind my eyes, and blurs my vision a little. Just enough to even out the head ache to both sides of my skull. So I reach for a glass of water and some little red pills. Too many of these begin to wear down my stomach so now; my stomach joins in on this brigade to wear down my body.
I know there is worse. I know that I don’t have it all that bad. I know that there are people out there with incredible pain that I can’t even imagine tolerating. I know that there are others out there with bones as brittle as glass. I know that there are people out there with muscles that burn with every move of their body. I know there are stomachs that hurt so bad they force you into a fetal position searching for the comfort of a mother’s womb. I know these things. The slightest pain in my body reminds me of these things. So I keep typing. I keep writing. I keep drawing and holding my pen awkwardly. I keep popping the little red pills, in moderation to alleviate the pain. I keep moving because I can. I know I am hurting, but in relation to the world of pain out there, I am okay. My aches are minimal. Knowing this, I keep moving. It’s physical.

The thought begins at the mind. It begins as a question, a curiosity, an insight. The thought stands at an edge of reason. It stands at a crossroad. The thinking begins. “Do I go left? Do I go right? Do I go at all?” What happens if one goes, what happens when one falls? Would it really be safer to stay? Should I wait for the sun to set or would it be too late by sunrise? Am I already late? Fine I’ll go. No wait. What would happen should one prevail? What if things fall into place and that’s not where you had expected? What do I do then? How will I react? Will I react? Will I do the right thing? Or will I fall into the same hole I've fallen into so many times? What will make this time different? Will it be different?” it’s so permanent. Steps taken can’t be taken back. Words said can be mistaken, and actions misinterpreted, or interpreted too well. . The thought takes form. Thought turned emotion begins to trail down my head, and into my throat. I swallow the saliva that has been sitting beneath my tongue. It passes through the knot in my throat, and into my heart, making it beat faster and harder. The beats are so heavy they hit my stomach and I begin to feel nauseous. My heart feels like it has sunken into my stomach. How can a thought do this? Fear begins to run down my arms, and down my spine. My bones feel naked. My skin feels cold. My breaths get heavier. My head feels light. There is no pill I want to take. There is no “thought medication”. Sure, simple solutions can provide for quick fixes. Pop a pill to ease the symptoms, but soon that pill will dissolve and leave me alone with these thoughts and these emotions. The fear will return; the irrational fear. By this time, the mind has surpassed that crossroad. Common sense settles in and alleviates the tension in my brain. There’s nothing to worry about, there is nothing to be scared about. Just relax. It’s not the end of the world. I know this. I know that whatever happens, I’ll be okay. I know there are larger than life worries out there. I know there are uncontrollable situations that instill fear that is paralyzing. I know this. Still. It’s too late.
My body is in motion. Internally, the fear turns into a heart beat and rushes up my throat and unravels the knot that was there before. The tears begin to flow. The words begin to spill out of my mouth. Some are understood, some misunderstood. Some are taken, some are mistaken, and some are dismissed. Actions are acted out and left to the mercy of an audience caught off guard.

Then it’s over. The thoughts subside. The fear is gone, and all that is left is a naked, pile of bones. A naked pile of bones that doesn’t see that there in front of her was a warm body taking in her words, taking in her actions, taking in her emotions, and wanting to take her in completely.