AN ODE TO YOUR DREAMS

( 十三 ) burning coals

burning coals.

THERE IS A RINGING INSIDE YOUR HEAD.

You know what a migraine is and how it feels.

It initially begins with subtle taps onto the sides of your temples, pushing repeatedly against the skin before it eventually penetrates into the bone of your skull. The pain increases with the seconds going by, and as it does so, you feel the slow pushing transition into a hammering ache that spreads across the interiors of your head. The pain blossoms across your temples; into the area between your two eyes as if they were being plucked out forcefully with four fingers; and running across the back of your head into the area of your occipital lobe and behind your neck.

You know that the pain feels as if it lasts for eternity, when in truth, it only stays for a few short moments compared to the length of one lifetime. But a moment is long enough for someone who had life to live significantly less than the average lifespan of a person ( even in this world ). And as the ache continues to prod against the surface of your brain, you are reminded of the time that is continuously running. If you do not recover fast enough, it'll leave you in the dust, wrapped in your own pain.

Your whole life, you've fought against it and each time you are left stagnant, and in effect, you lay inevitably hopeless. You've lived with the same ideals that habitually partake in your daily monotonous routine. You've woken up each day and fallen asleep each night denying your fate when it is subconsciously the driving force behind all of your decisions. You cannot escape from it. You can't even try when it binds you whole, through and through, penetrating into the depths of your beliefs that your principles become a mere blur. No shallow form of rebellion such as your false nihilism can sweep you away from the inevitable end.

So perhaps, this time—you should embrace it.

After all, what is pain to someone who is dead?

Wake up.

Your eyes open and the first thing you notice is your arm laying pressed on top of your forehead. You bring your wrist above your groggy eyes and see the veins slightly protruding beneath the skin. You blink. Blood is running through its passageways. Today you are alive. You tilt your head to the left slightly where your window is, just right by your bed, and you see the beads of water dripping down from its glass outside.

Rain is falling from the sky and yet the Sun is up and it's as bright as ever, other than the thin layer of clouds and the falling water that is slightly obscuring the light from passing through. Still, the Sun's light casts onto your face.

The door slowly swings open and you move your gaze across the other side of the room. Your mother stands there, clad in a white duster and hair gathered up with a clamp. Her brows furrow but there is a slight smile on her face.

"Good morning, (First Name)."

You yawn, stretching your limbs. "Morning, Mom."

Your mother proceeds to enter your room, now standing in front of the door. Her hands are clasped together as she looks at you.

"Would you like to go out today? I don't think we've gone out together for a while." She looks up at the ceiling briefly. "I was thinking of going to the nearby mall."

You raise your brows at her suggestion then momentarily glanced at the drizzling sky. It's a bit colder today, but not enough to make the hairs of your skin rise.