Better

A little monologue-type blurb exploring drug abuse and potential consequences and causes.

Maybe things could be better if I got a better job. Or stopped doing drugs. Maybe I'd get a better job if I quit doing drugs.

I can appreciate delayed gratitude as much as the next person, more probably. But things just aren't happening fast enough. I've submitted over thirty applications, I've taken several college classes to look more appealing to those jobs. Not a single call back. The drugs are the only thing that make my present worth living.

I used to think that the pain was just soreness, I used to think I didn't need to see a doctor. But then, I realized how much I was missing. As it turns out, a pain-free existence is all I've ever really wanted, .

I thought it might be love that I was missing, maybe routine, or serotonin, which, according to a psychiatrist, my brain lacks. After enough anti-psychotics to cause a mild form of epilepsy and enough failed relationships to leave me emotionally crippled, I have realized all I've ever wanted was to sit, walk, sleep -- to live -- with ease.

Too bad I don't have a prescription.

Reviews

[Mathew Jennings]

Brilliant! Best thing I've read on this site so far. Know a lot of people that this work speaks true of.