Sin… The Pain…

There’s a pain in my head.

I don’t why it’s there, humming around like a busy little bee, but it’s irritating the hell out of me.

It was there when I woke up this morning. Usually the glowing white of the walls, floor and everything else doesn’t bother me too much. I’m sort of used to it. Sometimes you feel like you need to walk around with a squint in lieu of a rather fashionable pair of sunglasses, but it’s just background pain. Little needles piercing your eyes, rather than Crocodile Dundee style ‘now this is a knife’ blades hacking away at your inner cortex.

Today, though, I have a pain in my head. My sinuses are playing up, so maybe that’s it. The bridge of my nose feels like it has a steady stream of cars and trucks driving over the stream beneath. Thankfully Mucous Micky is around to help with that. When my sinuses are doing their thing, which is usually a runaway success, I just have to hope my head doesn’t explode from the pressure.

But this pain in my head is different. It’s not the steady throb of a subwoofer pulsing against the back of my eyes to an unheard beat. It’s not the crick that’ll crack if I turn my head just so, sharply enough to make it swim on down the road, almost taking the rest of me with it. It isn’t the moanings of a migraine, attempting to wipe me out for the day so I’ll be holed up in a darkened room.

Not that there is such a thing in the asylum.

It’s like an insect has crawled in my ear and is using the surface of my brain as a trampoline. The bee is bumbling and the beetle is bouncing. Ba-doyng-a ba-doyng.

Interesting how some onomatopoeic words are SO difficult to spell, even though that is what they sound like. Unlike knock-knock. Who’s there? Nobody. Nobody who? No… Actually nobody is there. You’re all alone hunny.

That’s not funny, I know. But oh, so true. In an asylum, no-one cares if you scream.

So.

This pain.

I wonder if Rentokil are like pizza delivery places. You ring them up and they drop by within half an hour or you get the service free. I wonder if they can do anything about this buzzing in my bonce. I wonder where they’d shove the nozzle.

Maybe I’ll just persevere. Although, if it went up my nostril, like Arnie in Total Recall, at least it’d flush out my sinuses.

Ah. The pain is subsiding. Or changing. Morphing as Michael Jackson did at the end of that music video. Which one was it? Black or White? The one with Eddie Murphy in? I forget, but he changed into a panther – black and sleek and pretty damned cool.

Nothing cool about this pain though. I recognise it.

How could I not?

It’s happened again. The whole reason I entered this place was to avoid this. To get pumped full of their drugs so it couldn’t happen again.

But it has.

And it’s not a pain. Well, it is and it isn’t. It’s not MY pain. It’s theirs.

And the incessant buzzing is their screams.

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