Klaus, the guy behind my eye(s).

There is a gnarled old man who lives in my brain, right behind my eyes. He is grumpy, this gnarled old man. And, lucky for him he owns some very sharp tools, his favorite of which is a pick-axe.

Klaus and I have a funny relationship. He's extremely sensitive to things normal people don't mind at all. And, he takes it out on me when I do something he disagrees with.

For instance, entering a room flooded with sunlight blinds him and makes him want to throw up. The morning alarm clock jars him from a peaceful sleep in ways that make his head spin and clang, like symbols are ringing in his ears. Standing up quickly is the equivalent of knocking on his head until he feels dizzy and wants to fall over.

So every time I commit (accidentally or otherwise) one of these acts, Klaus hammers at my skull with his pick-axe in an effort to reach some kind of mutual understanding. It's working, I'd say.

As of yesterday, I understood that his pain is my pain and vice-versa, so I've been trying to lull him to sleep with prescription drugs and dark, un-distracted places, where loud jarring noises do not occur. Although Vicodin makes both of us feel funny, and uncomfortable, and itchy as heck, it pretty much knocks poor Klaus right out. When he's sleeping he's not stomping around in my brain trying to hurt me, so I generally take a nap too.

This morning, he was bothering me so I ate an entire bowl of pasta and then took a whole vicodin. Now I am itching all over my face and ears. All the drapes are shut tight which feels really good. I'm thinking about a shower but I'm not sure I can stay awake and I've heard that shallow water deaths are the number one cause of death for people under 35, which is probably an urban myth, but who knows?