Oof, I mutter as I get hit in the head with a black boxing glove and fall to the ground.
Thud, thud, thud. My head is pounding. I can’t focus.
Boof. I get hit again as I try to stand.
My eyes attempt to focus on the bright dangling light, but my vision blurs. My head is throbbing. I can’t think.
The Everlast glove comes at me again, hitting the back of my head and knocking me down before I can stand. I feel a goose egg begin to form. Everything in the room is amplified. The crowd is cheering. The sound is making me nauseous.
Thud, thud, thud. The fluorescent lights make me feel ill. I wonder why they suddenly changed to strobe lights. Is this some kind of joke? Still can’t think.
It feels like I’m in a dream and I am struggling to wake up; every time I try to stand, though, I get hit in the back of the head. My opponent isn’t losing any sort of momentum as he hits me hard, again and again. His powerful blows are dancing to the rhythm of my heartbeat.
The announcer’s voice blares into the speakers. I cry and hold my ears in pain at the deafening volume. Why isn’t the sound bothering anyone else?
He hits me from a different angle and my head continues to throb. I wince in pain at the sharpness of the new blow. My eyes dart frantically around the room to find a way out.
There’s an enormous red EXIT sign I rush to as quickly as possible. It’s my only hope.
I lie down in bed and hope this will relieve my pain. I drift off to sleep, and finally escape. Migraines are physically painful, and the only way to break free from their firm grasp is living life in a dream until they pass away.
I don’t really know how to end this post; I can’t think.