Shivering in the middle of the night, nauseous and bewildered; my mind felt like it was running a cross-country marathon, like Forrest Gump running along — except I just wasn’t sure what I was running from.
I found myself back where it all begins, and usually where it all goes to end; the hospital. Seated outside amongst the other survivors and victims, wondering what I’d done wrong in life to be amongst the select few.
Lost souls and rhyming vowels of medicated prescriptions, holding on for dear life; hoping the doctor signs off on another one, and the one after that.
I looked down at my feet, shaking as they were the night before — wondering if time was slowly running out, and maybe I’d just been running for too long that the soles of my shoes had finally worn down exposing the skin of the bottom my feet to the rough patchy ground below.
Unsettling is the feeling of dysphoria; the anaesthetic settles in comfortably, holding my hand as I fade slowly into a hazy comatose.
Numb as they say, so is the mind after a few dozes — keep me medicated, doc; I think today I really need it.
Looking around in the blue painted hallways, amongst the dreary eyed crowd awaiting for their number to be called; I couldn’t help but wonder if it was a misdiagnosis or an experiment gone horribly wrong.
“Shaken, not stirred”, I attempted to make light of the conversation; as my body vibrated like a broken dildo.
Clocks stop spinning, and with the noise slowly counting down like a broken metronome—
“Tick-Tock-Tick-Tock”, I hope to not wake up from this one.
Remarkably, as I always do, death won’t have me and life won’t let me — and in this predicament, I couldn’t help but wonder; “Do you get any pleasure out of this?”.
They smile and nod, like long lost friends; yet little do they know, they were replaced a long time ago with a handful of blue pills designed to magically make things feel like they were going to be alright.
It wasn’t a cure, and it was never meant to be.
Just a suppression of the pain, the misery; never the cure for it, just another doze of distraction of the unthinkable.
I smile back and consider the state I’m in, accepting it as such —
For now, laugh along like the others do…
Convince them of the lie they so want you to believe,
Sick minds do think alike, because if they didn’t, as long they do; ‘doc I think, you’d be out of a job.