Ache

I have a headache. My head is killing me. The pain won’t stop. Blah blah blah. It’s always the same thing.

I press my finger against my temple, I rub my eyes, I shake my head, I pound my head with my fist, I crack my neck, I pound my head against the wall, I pound it again, I keep pounding, I twist and turn, I move and jump and jostle and I close my eyes and try to remain calm and feel a quiet sense and try to remember life before the aches and pains of everyday life. It’s always the same thing.

I sit here and wonder if it’s possible for my head to not hurt as it always does, as it constantly pains my life, pains my mind, pains my thoughts, thinking that maybe the pain will go away with a simple this or that or maybe, yeah, maybe that’s a good idea, maybe that, but alas no, it’s always the same thing and I sit and stare and blank and close and open and tire and tire and wish and it’s always the same thing.

And the goddamn coffeeshop is playing that irritating 60’s singer again for background noise and all it is to me is noise noise and I so hate that singer and I can’t remember his name but it doesn’t matter because he’s irritating and annoying and he makes my head hurt even more and goddamn they are always playing his music, everytime I come here, and why do I come here, they always play his music as if he’s a great background to have for the coffeeshop experience and goddamn I hate him and I know that everybody loves him and he’s supposedly this great 60’s musician and we’re all supposed to idolize him but I don’t, I don’t at all, never have, never will, stupid, goddamn musician and it’s always the same thing.

And there’s this cigarette smoke sifting into my nostrils from this goddamn smoker sitting right outside the coffeeshop window as if she doesn’t care, and I hate her, I don’t even know her, but goddamn I hate her, she is sitting there smoking and filling my nostrils with her expressed smoke as if she don’t care and, well, she don’t care, but I do care, because I hate the smell and I hate the noxious fumes and I hate her I simply hate her, even though I don’t know her, because goddamn she is smoking near me and she doesn’t care and I do care and I have another goddamn headache and it’s always the same thing.

And I remember you, and I remember that time, that time when we, yeah, you know, that time when we, when we were, and we did, and we laughed and loved and felt and it was and we were and then you said, well, I wanted you to say, but you didn’t say and I was hoping you would say, and I still hope you would say, even though you never did and we were and we clung and we touched and we were, yeah we were, and we did but then you, you, well, you and I were not, and did not, and felt but we said nothing and it was over and it was over and it was over and it was something different and all was changed and everything was wrong and not right and not good and we weren’t and we didn’t and I felt, I felt, and I felt, and I still feel, and I ache and I ache and I ache, and it’s always the same thing.

And there’s someone over there, across the room, sitting there, just sitting there, concentrating on reading and not noticing me but I am noticing and I see and I feel and I wonder and I hope but there is no connection and it’s just here and I’m just here and I’m just noticing and wondering but there is no connection and I feel and I ache but there is no connection and why is there no reciprocal noticing and why is it always the same thing?

And so I pretend that all is fine and I sit here and I think about how life could be and I think about life in some ways that might be better and I hope for greener pastures but I realize that the pasture is actually as green as it can get and I am stuck in a lifeless pasture of pseudo green, not quite ripe and buoyant as one would hope and dream but sort of a listless faint color of green that is green, yes, it is a green pasture, but it’s just not the pasteurized color I had hoped it would be one day when I was looking out for green pastures and hoping to find myself in a greener pasture than the one that I was in before and I realize that there probably is no other pasture for me and even though I ache and pain and feel and hope and dream and wish, I realize that this is all there is and there is nothing left and it’s always the same goddamn thing.

And I realize that I have been here before, I know that I have been here before and I have the same headache and I hear the same goddamn 60’s musician in the same coffeeshop with the same goddamn smokers and the same fumes wafting into my nostrils and I’ve thought many many many of the same thoughts and have the same memories about you, yeah, about goddamn you, and there is always someone over there, across the room, sitting there, reading or writing or playing or thinking but never noticing, oh, I’m always noticing, but it’s never reciprocal and I’m always just noticing but there is no noticing back and I’m thinking that I’m stuck in this same place and this same time and this same moment after the same moment that happened already and again and it’s always happening the same and everything is always the same and no matter how much I feel or dream or wish or hope and cling or contemplate or dream of a pasture which is green to where I can grow and flourish and beam and feel fulfillment and feel life in my full red blood of life, I know now, as I have always known, that there is nothing more to this and I will always ache, I will always have this pain, I will always feel the anger and the nastiness of which I really had hoped I would never have again and I will always want and be wanting and wishing and I will still think about you, yeah, goddamn you, because no matter how much time goes on and no matter how much better I feel, I still think about you, and I still wish I was noticed from across the room and I still wish I had things better and I still wish my goddamn headache would end, but it never does, it really never does, it is always here and it is always all the same goddamn thing.