Today is not a good day, not at ALL a good day. Depressed, sad, teary-eyed and moody, sleeping off the depression like that'll help, blah blah blah. Spent 2 hours cleaning in the hopes that would stave off this madness, but all it did was force me to nap for the same amount of time. The Zoloft I'm on for my PMDD helped for the 2 weeks I took it, but now that help has fluttered out the window and into the rainstorm. Maybe I should take it every day; maybe I should welcome the oblivious feeling that pills give my brain. Maybe I should just shut the fuck up, take the goddamn pill, and surrender. Maybe I shouldn't have been born an artist, a sensitive little shit who feels every fucking thing so strongly. Maybe I should just take the pills.
But the pills take me, and I have never, ever liked where they've taken me. Commercial breaks from existence, mainly, and zoloft has quite the reputation for zombifying people. I just don't want to lose what little creativity I've got left. Where is my scrying glass? Where is my crystal ball, to show me how my future will turn out if I willingly take these little pills of complacence? After all, this bout of the creeping sads has only been around for two days; maybe tomorrow it'll go away. It'll pass.
That's been my mantra for so long now, I can't recall the first time I thought it.
It'll pass. It always does. Fucking pills.
