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It's not my head that hurts...

Updated: Oct 25, 2022

It’s not the headaches that hurt. It’s not the dull pain behind my eyes. It’s not the searing heat inside my head behind my temples. It’s not the sharp nail driven in at the base of my skull sending pulses of pain through to my fingertips of my left hand.

Those hurt sure, but the pain is coming from not being able to do anything to make it stop. It’s worse than the pain of seeing a somebodies potential and not doing anything to help them advance, or evolve, to what they can be. It tears me apart more than looking back at the man in the mirror and the mistakes he’s made. It hurts worse than taking the life of an innocent soul to prove something. It burns with an ever-enduring pain of fuckery. The pharmaceuticals help as much as taking a torch to the nail in the back of my head. The psychotropics seem to have left something behind and I believe it may have only been the psycho part. While the weed was working well right after, being a stoner wasn’t. The micro-dosing connected some things that hadn’t been connected and needed to be. Yet nothing was still how it used to be. I was fading out without feeling faded at all. Energized and amped up without being able to grab a hold of anything to pull myself forward. My thoughts were up and gone as soon as I had gathered myself to accomplish them. My life was being in a room and forgetting what I had come in there for. It’s not my fucking head that hurts. I get used to this pain. I get used to not remembering what I just read. I get used to sleepless nights where I relearn my first language from square one. I get used to looking up at the pedestal I could have been on where I didn't have to do all these extra things in the dark. I get used to not fucking caring. It’s not my head that hurts. I am in pain for trying to figure something that I can do to relieve myself. So far no doctor has been able to do half of what I have done, and that’s still virtually nothing. Knowing I could be a better man without these physical side effects to every women in my life hurts. Knowing I could have achieved much more academically hurts. Knowing that no doctor has helped and not knowing if there is one who can hurts. Knowing I still have years before all the effects start to take place hurts. But what hurts the most? There is nothing anybody has found that I can do about it… but you know what doesn’t hurt, what gives a spec of hope?... Neither do I, but then again I’m still looking...

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