Insomniac

I feel the disconnect. I see myself, my perceived self, floating away. I do not fear this, I know he can return any time I want him to. I surrender control...to myself in a way. That’s what antidepressants are - A way to surrender control. It’s the sexiest disguise force has ever worn.

I guess I'm submissive - who knew....

the drug needs me to need it - without me it fails to exist. I must be the master. It’s here I begin to wonder about choices.

I choose to take this pill. I choose it every morning. Every afternoon - I regret it.

This cycle never ends. The sick, tired, disconnection turns me on.

No surprise. I thought the pills would help me. I thought they would give me the lift I needed to get to where I wanted to be. I thought it was simple enough.

I have always been addicted to cycles. To the familiar, sexy fucking pain of consistency. When I need it bad - I’m like a cat in heat. I’ll get it any way I can. 

Sure, i will ingest some pills which will force my body into a state it will not readily attain on it’s own. Only for the sexy payback. Life is payola.

The pills allow me to place blame elsewhere. It's the pills - they made me do it.

I have a feeling this is going to take longer that I thought,