mid-night ruminations

Here I sit, again, in the middle of the darkness of night, having been urged once again by the pain in my head to take the drugs I vehemently swore I would not come to depend on, waiting for the relief I know will come eventually, and trying not to fear that I have become an addict.

I am not addicted to these pills. I fight taking them for the longest time I can possibly manage. I hate them. I hate what I know they represent.

However, I do depend on them. I need the diminishing of the pain they will bring. I need to be able to sleep, to rest, to stop feeling as if I am a writhing mass of unrelenting uncomfortableness.

It sucks, feeling like this.

I hate who I am becoming. I hate having to get up in the wee hours of the morning to ingest compounds that used to knock me out, knowing they will only help ease the reminder of the ever-present companion my neuralgia has become.

I wonder if I will ever again be pain-free before I close my eyes for the last time.

I wonder if I will ever feel fully alive again.