The Human Head

 

 

Migraines

 

I used to think I had them because my brain was forming new wrinkles and the impressions that were being made were too much for my skull to handle. Splits in tissue creating rifts in what was once smooth. There is a cost for new knowledge acquired. Headaches when my world would become increasingly complex.

 

Other times I thought that all the pain that I held in my heart and in my chest had risen up like hot air and once it had reached my head it expanded as it pushed upward and found no exit.

 

Lying in bed with a hot rag on my forehead I know now that it’s merely dehydration and lack of sleep that continues to bring on the headaches.

 

 

 

The Hippocampus

 

Science shows that depression actually shrinks this part of the brain. Named after its resemblance to the sea horse a cross section doesn’t reveal anything very impressive, but it’s almost as if you can feel this small structure wasting away.

 

I assume some cells must be dying as I lie in bed – paralyzed from sadness. The same thoughts circle around in destructive feedback loops. I have conditioned my body to expect stasis. But if I can change the chemistry of my brain why am I still unhappy?

 

 

 

We are animals of habit

 

I watch rodents on wheels. They get wet drinking morphine-laced water from drip bottles. It’s these squirrel-sized rats inching around in their cage that really bother me. Their bodies are too fat and too slow. Their fur is spiked out before the drying and I see how we all slow down, right before dying.

 

 

 

 

Clarissa Olivarez is a writer and photographer. She teaches literature at American University and Northern Virginia Community College. She is currently living in Washington, D.C. Her photography has appeared in Inscape and Juked. Her writing is forthcoming in Haggard & Halloo.