today at college the first signs of a migraine appeared in the form of a constellation of white star-like blobs, so i walked back home, solar-powered.
the moment i got in, i felt a tingling on my lips, and it extended slowly towards the left side of my face that later went numb, as well as my left hand's fingertips.
a storm was brewing.
with that soundtrack, i rummaged through all my boxes and drawers, looking for the antimigraine pills, amidst mountains of ibuprofen. i had to settle for the latter.
it's always the right side of the brain that wants to hurt, stupid mass of lipids.
could it be a product of the creative wall i bumped into?
i've always been very muchly curious of which part of the brain responds to what stimuli and how the electric sparks are transmitted and somehow make sense to us in a way that's so mysterious and enigmatic, how there is communication and complex thoughts - how are they generated? how are we self-aware?
how did this happen in the evolutionary staircase?
how can you put your finger on the moment the first clump of neurones were webbed together, above the cerebellum?
i'm meant to lay in silence with my eyes closed and wait for the pain to pass (despite the fact that last time it lasted for 3 days).
yet silence rings so loudly, it's deafening - you plead for any sound, a passing car, a triad of screaming kids, a barking dog, more thunder, but nothing answers as the world grinds to a halt and the minutes slur their seconds while you feel like a dead weight with bursting eardrums.
and now a rhyme from a book that caught my attention:
if i'd as much money as i could tell,
i never would cry
'young lambs to sell,
young lambs to sell,
young lambs to sell';
i never would cry,
'young lambs to sell.'