The Doctor in Different Voices

This is why I medicate – the same reason I stay up late, the same reason I cry to music – so I won’t care that I’m so useless. Everyone is simple and so worried about taxes that I can’t summon the courage to call out, to even ask them how am I supposed to prosper if I’m always such a drag? What feelings should I foster when I always feel so sad? Things are good, the money’s coming. I have friends that probably love me. My family is quite supportive, my grades are good when they’re reported but I still wake up every morning hours before my alarm does. This is why I medicate – I think that it’s because if there’s nothing to take the edge off, I am sharper than the wind. I can feel my eyes like embers – I can feel how truly thin and compact my paltry wrists are, getting cramps from cheap black pens. I do not want to feel that hungry; I just want to file in amongst the cramped and coughing masses – boys with red hair, girls with glasses – anything to take my mind off of the gnawing absence of anything close to ecstatic. Yes, we writers are dramatic but I’m sad.

I just feel sad all the time.

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~ by perfectionatrix on October 4, 2010.

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