I hate that my mind and body (and life) realized so much on on two little pills. Laying on top of each other, behind that orange plastic, they don’t look like anything much. Just from looks, they’re as useless as a box of tic-tacs. (Btw it took me five tries just to type tacs.) if I don’t take them I’m basically on edge at all times and unpredictable. Just the panic at the thought of the possibilities of what might happen if I don’t take these insignificant compressed powders, is reason enough. Yet, I fight the process. In some messed up part of my brain comes the message that by taking them I am weak. I am somehow less than human. That I am broken. 

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