Pain. Before the concussion it was a brief, occasional sensation. Once in awhile. When I stubbed my toe. When I ate something that didn’t agree with me. But now, pain is all I know. My head is a chunk of lead, flames flaring up in different parts every so often. It’s achey and stabby and everything in between. Raw. Persistent. Debilitating. Unignorable. From the minute I wake up to the moment I fall asleep, it’s there. It’s always there. “It’ll take weeks to get better.” Some say. “Months.” Declare others. “Even a year.” I can’t stand the thought of the latter, or even the second. I can’t even stand another day of this. But I’ll have to.
       The pain is not just pain. It’s a ball and chain, a prison. Hindering me from performing well in school. Holding me back from letting my creativity shine through my words. Stopping me from doing the sport I love and cherish. Making me sit out and watch as the gymnasts around me leap and dance with ease. In tip top shape like I’m supposed to be. Competing at the meets I was supposed to champion. The ones I’ve been anticipating and looking forward to for so long. The one’s I can’t go to anymore. Excitement and happiness- drained like a bathtub. I watch as everyone exercises with ease. How nice it must feel not to have a headache. How liberating. How foreign. The pain holds me back from enjoying my life. It makes me introverted. It stops me from being me. Pulse. Throb. Ache. Stab. They say it will end, but it feels like it never will.