I don’t look people in the eyes as much. I learned at Heartland Behavioral Unit that eye contact is a challenge, a sexual offer, or a sign of vulnerability. Eye contact is but another hurtle for me…for anyone who understands it the way I do. And I’m sick of hurtles. I am but and old track runner, running and jumping, running and jumping, waiting for my turn to cross the finish line.
When on medication, your thoughts are delayed. Your mind is like an old computer with slow software, and as you drag the mouse across the screen, it takes a few seconds for the monitor to compute the request. I drag my eyes across the living room, but I feel as though my reflexes are postponed, I feel unprepared, and vulnerable. I feel as though someone is sneaking up behind me, knowing that I couldn’t catch them with my sight if I tried. People right next to me speak in loud tones, but inside my head they sound far away. Like a voice on the intercom that you would hear coming from another room, or voices coming from behind a closed door. They call my anti-depressant Celexa, and for some reason the word “silicon” comes to my mind when I hear it. So I dissect the word silicon in my head and on my paper. Silicon reminds me of plastic surgery, which leads to falsely perfect bronzed bodies resting in the sandy beaches of California, which then takes an ugly turn into insecurity and beautiful fabrications. Overall, Silicon reminds me of one word; Fake. I’m not living my life anymore. Celexa is.
The doctor promised recovery...but my head still aches...my heart still pains...and my wrist still itches. No one really understood there. I was on suicide alert...as if thats really what i was doing. It took me almost a year of slicing into my skin to realize why i was doing it. It was a high...a rush. Depth didn't matter to me. My scars heal like cat scratches. It was the sight of blood that released me. Now, off of my medication, i search for a high that leaves no scars. I always knew the doctors were right...i was always just a pill away from sanity...too bad i never remember the state in which i'm "sane" in. But chasing with Vodka will do that. Now i can't decide which highs are best. The countless drugs and drinks i use now...maybe the doctors would prefer for me to cut if i told the truth about my "alternative medication". I just wanted a little slice of sanity...too bad it came out of my flesh.