My friend tells me she can cure headaches
By asking me what color they are
What shape they are
And where they are

But now I’m just confused
With a headache
And very much inside my own brain

Which is really the last place
I want to be.

I find it scary how little I know.
I don’t mean academically

I mean I find it weird that I have a body
Yet I have no idea how many
Bones I have
Or atoms
Or how my eyes work.

Apparently we generate new cells so often
That every seven years
We’re completely new people.

And that could be why everything
Feels so ephemeral.

I want to know
If I probe cellular atrophy
Will I revert into a happier me

I don’t want another change.

My headache keeps thumping

And my friend tells me she can cure it
By asking me what color it is
What shape it is
And where it is

But that doesn’t work
And I’m still confused
With a headache
And very much inside my own brain

Chelsea Blake is a senior in the Visual and Critical Studies Department at the School of Visual Arts. “This poem is non-fiction. I enjoy writing odd thoughts and short personal stories.”