I was always so damn sober and clean. So sensible around drugs and addiction.
Now I’m beginning to think like an addict. Feelings/thoughts approaching unbearable? Take a pill. A non-prescribed one if necessary.
Every day there are reasons to take a downer. Yes, ironic. I’m as depressed as can be. But the drug makes me stop caring. Makes me dumb, fearless for the duration. Bit wobbly on my feet maybe, but I can face anyone and anything without anxiety.
At last I found an online source of what I need. Marijuana makes me nauseous. Drink was never my thing. But there is a pill for every ill. So I swop one anxiety for another. Now I worry so much about becoming an addict that I just want to go and take one more.
And I can’t seem to get by without a heavy dose of antidepressants either. I tried my damnedest to get off them, and reached the halfway mark, but the depression got so much worse I have all but given up. Who’d have thunk that the cursed things were actually working?
Not that they cure the depression. Haha, as if. But they rendered it manageable I guess. If it wasn’t for the weight I gained and the diabetes type 2 that threatens I would say fuck it and go back to the mildly depressed zombie state with alacrity.
I was brave and spirited back in the day. Now I’m broken and crushed, and it’s any port in a storm.