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thejunipertreeMy head hurts.
And it's a strange kind of hurting. Not your normal, run of the mill headache. It's not even really a headache, if you look right at it.
It's more like the memory of pain.
I have a dim memory caught in the whorls of my brain of when I was four or five. I was at my father's house and sitting on top of his sideboard for some lost-to-time reason. And I fell off. I remember my head hitting the ground. The dull thud of bone striking floor. And the fog filling my eyesight slow and sinuous like an enormous grey serpent. They rushed me to the emergency room, with two black eyes beginning to form. It was the first of many concussions I've suffered throughout my life.
I remember car crashes, this is how they feel. The smack of my head against the passenger side window. The sudden black and red flowers blooming in my vision. My jaw clenching tight tight tighter.
There was also a time, when I was a bit older, that I was attempting to hang upside from a metal bar in a department store. One of those smooth markers that line the cash register area and keep the carts together. I hung onto the bar, threaded my knees inbetween my hands, and flipped over. My head struck the tiled floor. The only time in my life that I've been too tall to accomplish something. I closed my eyes and moaned, feeling the copper taste of blood fill my mouth from my bitten tongue.
A pulsing, growing...something. It doesn't even qualify as an ache, really. It's just there. And it won't go away. Driving in the rain, it was a constant reminder of what would happen if I let my attention stray from the road for just a second. The blurry windshield, the wind buffetting my small form back and forth across the black mirrored asphalt.
And all the while, the iron wool stuffing filling up my skull. The dense thudding of blood behind my eyes. Starbursts of light in the quick and temporary blackness which oozes Turkish coffee thick whenever I blink.
A memory, that won't go away.
And it's a strange kind of hurting. Not your normal, run of the mill headache. It's not even really a headache, if you look right at it.
It's more like the memory of pain.
I have a dim memory caught in the whorls of my brain of when I was four or five. I was at my father's house and sitting on top of his sideboard for some lost-to-time reason. And I fell off. I remember my head hitting the ground. The dull thud of bone striking floor. And the fog filling my eyesight slow and sinuous like an enormous grey serpent. They rushed me to the emergency room, with two black eyes beginning to form. It was the first of many concussions I've suffered throughout my life.
I remember car crashes, this is how they feel. The smack of my head against the passenger side window. The sudden black and red flowers blooming in my vision. My jaw clenching tight tight tighter.
There was also a time, when I was a bit older, that I was attempting to hang upside from a metal bar in a department store. One of those smooth markers that line the cash register area and keep the carts together. I hung onto the bar, threaded my knees inbetween my hands, and flipped over. My head struck the tiled floor. The only time in my life that I've been too tall to accomplish something. I closed my eyes and moaned, feeling the copper taste of blood fill my mouth from my bitten tongue.
A pulsing, growing...something. It doesn't even qualify as an ache, really. It's just there. And it won't go away. Driving in the rain, it was a constant reminder of what would happen if I let my attention stray from the road for just a second. The blurry windshield, the wind buffetting my small form back and forth across the black mirrored asphalt.
And all the while, the iron wool stuffing filling up my skull. The dense thudding of blood behind my eyes. Starbursts of light in the quick and temporary blackness which oozes Turkish coffee thick whenever I blink.
A memory, that won't go away.
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Date: 2002-09-27 09:56 am (UTC)yes, that is beautiful!
Date: 2002-09-27 03:07 pm (UTC)but then, that is part of the loveliness.