In the mirror, I see my face differently. All of my flaws vanish and tonight, I am beautiful. I walk around my apartment, colors and patterns popping out more vividly than ever. At work, I speed through every task, but when I receive an e-mail that’s inappropriate, instead of letting it go, I crave confrontation, a reckoning, drama.
I have sex with people I barely know, and I like it.
I talk to myself in the mirror, say the things I want to say to the jerk who wrote me that e-mail.
My head feels swollen, tired. But something is buzzing. Something that keeps me awake. Keeps me thinking about everything. I have big plans. I am going to finish this novel. I am going to apply for a new job. I am going to get a boyfriend. A great boyfriend. All of these things seem, suddenly, possible.
My medication. As I get undressed, I convince myself to skip the Seroquel like I did last night, since that skipping plus caffeine I drank today led me to this place, I know. I look down, pick up the pills to swallow them, and at the last minute, gulp the Seroquel down with everything else.
Now the Seroquel is shutting my brain off. I can feel it working. My eyes are crossing even though I’m wired. I’m not going to be able to resist sleep, though I want to stay up.
Do I really need to drug myself to stay alive? I can’t help but feel this way, resent the fact that I couldn’t just stay up and keep buzzing like any other normal person with good ideas after midnight.