The definition of pain itself is generalized, as pain is a universal asshole. It’s a feeling that no one wants to experience-much less on a constant basis, and yet it is like this for a lot of people. From physical wounds to mental scars, and other factors that cause pain, it’s a natural sensation humans avoid and fear all the same. Me? I am unfortunately in that category where mental, physical and emotional pain can be the thread in one needle that jabs through my skull whenever they see fit. It is visible to the open eye, but if it was visible…I’d say that it would make the right side of my face swell up like a lonely sponge that just made its home in the ocean. 

​

It's migraines. I could go on and on, rambling why they suck even when all of you know they do because you’ve all gone through the same bullshit too. I’m not going to patronize any of you with that. In fact- 

​

We aren’t going to refer to “it” by name. It doesn’t deserve that. “The Seedling” will be referred to its given name as such. 

​

Fog - something that confuses or obscures one’s senses or state of mind from answering like a normal child 

​

The Seedling rooted itself within my mind at the wonderful age of 12, an age where you are supposed to be living the end of your childhood. To me, at least. When I turned 12, there would be moments where my mind would just blank. Blank, like a canvas that was once had vibrant color reduced back to its white and stainless form. Moments I would have when I’m in class, I would know the answer- 

​

And The Seedling would grow an extra root, merging into the answer and surrounding it with fog. 

​

I would freeze up, my mouth going dry as if I didn’t drink a bottle of water minutes ago and I would swallow in embarrassment and quietly sit back down, the shame gnawing and eroding my words as quickly as they came.

 

Why did I do that? I had the answer, I literally had it written down, I know what to do? 

​

A shot of pain zipping through the right side of my face would shoot down the logical protest and force me into a docile and pathetic state. It kept happening, multiple times, it made me question my own abilities and even more so my ability to have basic common sense. A cognitive “fog” that would blur any comprehensive thought I wished to voice out that arrived always at the wrong time. 

​

Sick – to be ill in some sense, whether it is physically, mentally, or emotionally, in my case all fucking three 

​

It’s what my mom told me when my immune system decided to give a hard “fuck you” and I was stuck in bed the week before Christmas. It was a regular, boring cold, but a cold nonetheless something that prevented me from finding out that it was the one time in several years where it had snowed. I was partly angry yet grateful. Angry in the sense that I wouldn’t be able to eat the soft snow but grateful that it probably had a bit of hail inside that would have my jaw looking like a snake that tried to swallow a rock. But as I was about to fall asleep, the feeling of burning clawed inside of my stomach and the familiar, god-awful, disgusting feeling of bile raced up my throat as if it was a competition. 

​

I didn’t make it to the bathroom in time, and that’s when my mom started to buy buckets for me and my siblings’ rooms when we didn’t quite have the strength to make it to the bathroom to expunge ourselves. But it didn’t make any sense all I felt when I sick was an uncomfortable stuffed up nose and a few coughs here and there. 

​

Another root formed and The Seedling gained a muscley red leaf. 

​

I don’t like the feeling.  But nothing is too good to end there. 

​

Sun - the luminous celestial body around which the earth and other planets revolve, from which they receive heat and light, which is composed mainly of hydrogen and helium, and which has a mean distance from earth of about 93,000,000 miles (150,000,000 kilometers), a linear diameter of 864,000 miles (1,390,000 kilometers), and a mass 332,000 times greater than earth. 

​

*Don’t look at me like that, you

know what the sun looks like

and you know not to look it

directly in the eye. 

 

But sometimes, I wouldn’t even look in the direction of the sun and yet the soft, tulip like light become that of a ray being directly drilled into my eyes on certain days. I was helping my brother fold laundry since he couldn’t fold pants for shit. And he still can’t. We had the TV on, playing Tom and Jerry because if I was helping him, I would only do it if I heard the duo and their squabbles. I was so caught up in the repetitive nature of those plots that I didn’t notice that my brother opening the curtains to see certain clothes better because apparently he can’t tell green from blue. And that misconception led me to turn around.

 

It only takes the brain less than 100 milliseconds to register light. Then comes discomfort. Then the registration of pain. 

​

I pushed him out the way and closed my curtains back with a harsh tug that bordered the light as quickly as it came. I remember groaning as I rubbed my eyes vigorously, knowing that it would get worse as I did. I didn’t care if it meant those white flickers of light would go away. That day, I got ushered by mom to our local doctor where I explained the same symptoms, the same incidents like a overused record. He noted everything, something the last doctor didn’t do as she believed it was just a tantrum or the development of stress.  

​

It was also the first day I was provided pruning medicine. 

​

Insomnia – the inability to fall asleep beyond your normal bedtime while also feeling as if you’ve consumed 15 cups of coffee in one sitting. 

​

Fatigue – the exact opposite of the definition of insomnia 

​

Did you know that it is somehow possible to experience both shitty option one and shitty option two at the exact same time? Because I sure didn’t, no sir! Sometimes I wonder if my purpose is just to be a punching bag for stress. What is preventing me from becoming God’s favorite little hydrogen bomb-

 

Another leaf forms and a veiny, throbbing bud forms. 

​

The Seedling always blocks the melatonin I wish to feel on a daily basis. Imagine being on the greatest high of your life, you just feel like you passed your exam after leaving the classroom first. But as you walk to your next class through the hallways that are drenched in the smell of bleach and Cheeto Puffs, a sudden tiredness swaddles your mind in a blanket.  

​

           A weighted blanket.  

​

But then moments later as you sit down, dragging your numb feet to one of the worst structured desk in the world, the throbbing feeling hits you, a metal bat being smashed on one side of your head and the person holding it sneering at your existence.  

​

Now you’re wide awake, aren’t you? 

 

Why aren’t you grateful - and now you’re falling back asleep.  

​

The cycle continues, even if you aren’t bored, even if you want to sleep, even if you simply want to relax, a neutral option.  

​

But you aren’t allowed, you don’t deserve such treatment, The Seedling snickered as I blankly stared at an empty screen for the 30th time that night.

  

It was the biggest paper of my life and I almost fucked it up.  

​

That was the month I got Vitamin D. Turns out, you’re supposed to have at least 30 nmol\L (nanomoles) in your system to have an healthy amount of Vitamin D. I had 11. But that little thing came before The Seedling made its home. So the entire time I was exhausted from then on was a mixture of the two seedlings, one that came and went, and the other that was a complete, knowing parasite. 

 

Distraction - I call it a moment to think about my next choices. In which I mean: 

​

Completely getting sidetracked by    

Splatoon 3. Maybe playing a few

matches. Then Hollow Knight. Then- 

​

Right, distraction. It causes me to sometimes to blank out on important moments. I was at my sister’s high school graduation, I remembered the vivid and gorgeous array of blues, golds and whites through the decoration the organizers were setting up. My sister was always someone I looked up for sibling advice. Even if she was a sarcastic little shit that took every chance to jab my dumbassery. But she was celebrating not only her 4.4 GPA but being the valedictorian of her entire graduating class. Like-how? How are you this intelligent and amazing as I get to have you as my sister? My family had the privilege of getting close seats next to where my sister was sitting…playing a farmer sim game on her phone. My aunt scoffed at her behavior as I played a farmer sim game. There goes the wheat, the chickens died, then her name was about to be called. I put the phone down, finally I got to see an important moment of my sister’s life. 

​

The Seedling sprouts more roots and leaves, the veiny and throbbing buds threatening to bloom at any moment as they pleased. 

​

My ears unwillingly drowned out any background noise and my eyes became blurry, my sensitive eyes attempting, begging The Seedling to let me have this moment. It didn’t and I was stuck contemplating the next 2 hours of my life questioning why did I get distracted?  

​

                                                                               Was I that incompetent?  

​

                                                                                                      Was I that insensitive? 

​

When I came to my sister to the matter, she told me that I shouldn’t worry about that because she knew it wasn’t my fault that I didn’t see her, that I didn’t clap or stand for her like a GOOD sister should, like a DECENT, NORMAL person should. The thought itself didn’t linger in my mind for long but there would be moments where I would remember. And the only reason I would remember was because those moments would be my worst. Losing my dog, failing a class that I was cheated out of, yelling at my brother for a simple mistake. It still all felt so wrong and even now, a time that I feel much better about myself, stings. 

 

Hurt/Hurting – seeing other people suffer because I portrayed an emotion I didn’t mean to. 

​

I hated seeing my mom hurt. More than I hated being hurt. Seeing and feeling her mental and emotional pain as she watched me dissociate when The Seedling decided to grow more buds and haze my mind once more. There was a moment of vulnerability from my mom on my 15th birthday. It was a day I was excited for-well until one bud decided to bloom, and it was bad. I had a constant look of drowsiness as I blew out the candles of my cake. I swear, I did not enjoy seeing the awkward expressions of my family’s faces. Afterwards, I just wanted to go to bed despite the egregious amount of sugar rushing through my blood stream. My mom had stopped me and led me outside to talk about the entire event and asked something that I wasn’t expecting: 

​

“Am I doing enough?” 

​

It broke my heart, making my throat promptly swell up and my eyes threatening me to not let the salty tears run down my dry and ache-ruled cheeks. The party was perfect, spectacular and the only reason it didn’t feel like it was because that isn’t what The Seedling wanted. It wanted me to suffer, and it wanted those who cared and loved me to suffer too. This was the familiar feeling of being an insensitive asshole came back as I hugged my mom and sobbed that it was a wonderful party, more than I deserved.  

​

We both sobbed our hearts out that afternoon and it felt good. Even if it caused The Seedling to grow stronger that day, it was worth it. It was the day I learned that even without the pruning medicine, I could try and attempt to be normal. And that was a comforting thought. 

​

Silence – the complete absence or ass-kicking of noise/the same feeling of throwing on headphones and almost getting hit by a car 

​

I wish I had a switch to make the world completely silent. Its harsh, but when The Seedling thrives the most off of the sweet nectar of noise like it would the sun, and ears are the easiest target. Every bit of noise: the laughter derived from a joke, the cries from a horrible break up, the yelling being unwillingly shared between a minor argument.  

​

God, it still is so, so loud.  

​

I bought headphones of all kinds, ones that claimed to be noise-canceling just to gain a extra buck to their already one-star reviews on Amazon, and others that were noise-cancelling and to buy them I tapped into my college fund so I wouldn’t die of exhaustion and stress from the unnecessary noise of everyday life. It was immature to some people. It was certainly rude to the woman who’s son I was tutoring one day. The Seedling was back and somehow even worse than it was before but I was trying to act positively as that what I should do. The kid himself was very sweet and understanding as we went through the notions of the Algebra I had to maneuver around and remember accurately. But I heard his mom come into the room with a snarky tone as she asked a-let me be serious-annoying question. 

​

“How do I know that you’re teaching my son the right equations if you can’t even be respectful enough to take off your headphones? You’re not some child, act your age if you’re going to actually help him” 

​

I didn’t say anything as I simply nodded and held my tongue because I was getting paid. A wonderful thing for my ego and livelihood and a bad thing for my irritation that was reaching its already short boiling point as after the session ended, The Seedling was blooming rapidly. It happens more often than not and even the pruning medicine did little to help. When all else fails, I turn the headphones to the maximum volume and keep on with my day without letting my irritation fester and turn into the water The Seedling needed to grow stronger than it already was. 

​

                                                      It hurts. 

​

                               It unfair. 

 

                                                                                               Its’s unbearable. 

​

                                         I hate it. 

 

                                                                                       I want it to stop. 

​

Of course, The Seedling wouldn’t care, it has NEVER cared. A parasite that only clings to the brain and will never be cut down, only subdued in order to not colonize my entire psyche and evolve into a overgrown garden that not even the shears and pruning medicine could tackle anymore. But it’s not like I’m ever going to let it get to that point. As long as my cute little Cinnamoroll themed medicine holder is intact and my headphones that are barely held together using the tape I found at the back of my trunk under my bed for another godforsaken week, this little shit will stay the way it is. A pathetic, weak, disquieting, wretched, pissbaby- 

​

I could go on for so long about my hate-filled mentality for The Seedling, but we would be here for another five pages and I assure you, you don’t want that. Or maybe you do. I don’t. 

​

But to put it in a short way: 

​

The Seedling will stay what it is - a seedling. 

Fuck you, you demonic spawn of Satan. I hate you.