Work gives me inexplicable anxiety. I take a few pills as I start, to ease my nerves. The day goes on. A couple hours later I take a few more pills. Nothing seems to be helping.
I don’t want to be here, I want to go home and lay down and pretend I don’t exist. I take a few more pills.
It’s starting to hit me, as I feel a bit light-headed and relaxed, but the thoughts won’t go away. Failure, pity, helplessness. I try to concentrate on work but my mind wanders.
I take a few more pills. I can feel my eyes drooping, and I don’t care. Part of me hopes that I pass out in the middle of the hallway.
I don’t care about causing a commotion, what people think of me for taking too many of my prescriptions. I only want to feel okay. I take a few more pills.
My supply is running low but I don’t care. Anything to feel numb, in control, distant from reality- whatever it takes to not feel the anxiety coursing through my veins.
The hormones inside of me don’t want to subside. Nothing, nothing wants me to feel normal.
Nothing wants me to take control of how I feel and understand they’re only feelings, and I do have control over how I feel.
They’re intangible thoughts, and not something that needs to dig its long, sharp claws deep into my shoulders.
I feel the tightening in that part of my body and I crack my neck to relieve the tension. Nothing works. I take a few more pills. Maybe one day I will take control. But today is not that day.
I take the last of my pills.