Loretta Castorini: You Can't See What You are, and I See Everything
This is Monday of the fourth week of the headache. If I write a memoir, this chapter will be entitled something Gothy like, "The Headfog Swallow." This almost incessant pain has thrown me into a completely different kind of desperation thinking that maybe, somehow, the tumor that has gone unnoticed by medical science has blossomed into a physical manifestation, rather than just an emotional one, and finally, the lifetime of unidentifiable weirdness that I've felt will be explained through an actual growth that has pressed on the part of my brain that triggers completely irrational depression and anxiety. If it is, at least I'll get to see what it is like to be bald. I don't think that I have the head for it, personally. I was talking with my therapist about kids and about my being a kid. I often do this, because children mystify me. I was talking about being five years old and not actually being five years old. About always being hyper-aware of everything around...