Dear Brain,

This conversation has been a long time comin'. You've treated me well over the years. We've managed to fool people over our intelligence, but times are getting tough. Don't get me wrong, I cherish the memories we've made, the dumb jokes we've shared... and yes, a few of those might have been puns. I take responsibility for the puns as well.

But we seem to have grown apart. You don't seem happy anymore. I try to treat you nice. I read books, listen to music, have great conversations to stimulate you. I know I've been falling down on the job when it comes to exercise, but I'll get back at it. All in all, not a bad report.

And yet.

And yet you insist on having migraines. Five in the last nine days by my count. I can understand and handle five in a month, but five in the last ten days? This is no way to go about life. I don't know how I've upset you, but you seem to take an odd pleasure in making me utter incoherent sentences as I fight between pain and medication.

We can work this out. We have to work this out because I'm nothing without you, Brain. I know that sounds a bit selfish, but I think you're nothing without me too.