My Version

I wish I knew of life. Real life. Instead of the version my migraines allow me to have. I think of my future. I would like to get married but imagine not making it to your own wedding. Kids, I want kids but how do I get off the Elevil and Imitrex in order to bear any? When I can't get out of bed or speak who will care for the child? I am a prisoner of pain. I am viewed as unreliable and weak. I am the girl who called in sick "again". This is not who I want to be, nor do I choose to be this. Migraines tell me who I am and I fear them. And when they speak I have no choice but to listen and follow thier command. No one understands, truthfully, neither do I.