Medicine

Every day I take anti-anxiety medications, an anti-depressant and a myriad of other supplements. The serotonin, dopamine and norepinephrine trickle into my brain, and I feel ok. Ok is good, I think.

I still cry at sad movies. I still have a temper. I still laugh way too much. But even when things go bad, it’s not as though the earth is shattering beneath me.

People seem more beautiful. Things seem more possible. I feel brave.

I came from a state of fearing everything. I looked into the mirror every day and picked myself apart until the only thing I felt was ugly and sad and full of hate.

Outside, I was living. But inside, I was dying.

These days, I’m high on happiness, craving human connection, craving the human touch and never hesitating to reach out to grab someone’s hand if it’s how I want to show affection.

I know they’re drugs, but they’re giving me a chance for love, or at least a new lense to see it in. They’re giving me the freedom to be the person that I’ve always wanted to be.

It’s not always perfect. Some days, all the medicine makes me feel really sick. Some days, it’s hard to eat. Some days, I don’t care about any of my responsibilities.

But, I’m grateful to have my life back.

Life, it’s ok. It always has been.

I just needed a little help to see it.

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