youremysatellite
Revolting doesn’t have to be loud, angry mass rebellion. I am currently revolting in a silence. Alone in a silent fury. I am rebelling against the ideals that were instilled in my mind at a young age. Which ideals am I referring to? True love. Soul mates. Happily ever after. Believing that there is someone out there who will love me for who I am. Who won’t lie, scheme, play games or whore around. Who would go to the ends of the earth for me. But today you proved that wrong. You were supposed to be my Prince Charming. I thought I loved you. Sadly, I think I still do. Unfortunately while you were making me fall in love with you, you were making love to her. And the second I found out all those dreams were instantaneously destroyed. Reality check, Jessica- there is no happily ever after. What was I thinking? I am revolting against Mr. Perfect.
I couldn’t begin to tell you how many times I thought about telling you what a coward you were. Every time you let go of my hand when you saw one of your friends. Or told me how much you loved me when we were alone, but could barely even look me in the eye if they were around. And especially the time you took me out for my birthday to a place 45 minutes out of town claiming they had the best Italian food… but I knew you were afraid to run into anyone. Yes, there were many, many times that I thought of telling you what a coward you were. But I never did. I guess that kind of made me a coward, too.
I couldn’t begin to tell you how many times I thought about telling you what a coward you were. Every time you let go of my hand when you saw one of your friends. Or told me how much you loved me when we were alone, but could barely even look me in the eye if they were around. And especially the time you took me out for my birthday to a place 45 out of town claiming they had the best Italian food… but I knew you were afraid to run into anyone. Yes, there were many, many times that I thought of telling you what a coward you were. But I never did. I guess that kind of made me a coward, too.
His fragrance was strong and sweet like cinnamon but also calming and soothing like the air after a long rain. And she couldn’t get enough. In her mind everything about him was pure perfection, right down to his smell. He shifted in his sleep and she smiled, knowing that soon she would be falling asleep to that scent every night. She laid her head on his chest, breathed in deeply and fell asleep feeling like the luckiest girl in the world.
My best friend says that music speaks to me in a way which it doesn’t to most people. Not all of it- just some songs seem to… speak to me. Nothing puts a bigger smile on my face than when I am sad or angry or lonely and I hear one of the first few notes of one of these songs and it all just goes away immediately, as if it had never existed in the first place. Like last night. I went to bed after a long, bad day and had a restless night of negative thoughts and bad dreams. In the middle of a particularly bad dream I started hearing “You and Me” by Dave Matthews Band. I woke up and realized that my alarm clock/radio had turned on and was playing that song. It was the perfect start to a much better day. DMB can be my alarm clock any day.
“I’m going to prescribe you some pills.” He said, as nonchalantly as if he had just asked me about the weather. He tells me that I’m suffering from an anxiety disorder that stemmed from my PTSD. Lately I can’t sleep more than 2 hours a day. I wouldn’t eat if I didn’t have to. I can’t remember anything before about age 16 and still things after that are fuzzy. I’m an introvert to the max. I don’t talk if I don’t have to but when I do I can get very emotional - I can go from screaming to bawling in 0.37 seconds. I get stressed out over miniscule things and get really angry at myself if I do anything less than perfect. He says all of these are aspects of the anxiety disorder and that the antidepressants he’s giving me are going to fix it all. But I don’t believe him. How could a pill fix all of that?
I wonder how many pills are taken every day all over the world. Pills for anything and everything. Pills for losing weight, pills to cope with stress, pills to improve memory, pills to aid in the struggle with various illnesses, pills to improve sexual drive, pills for ANYTHING. I wonder what fraction of these pills do what they claim. And what fraction of that fraction can do what they claim while keeping people in reality. I work in the medical industry and I know, pills can keep you from living the life you were meant to live. Yes, they can save lives and work miraculous wonders. But at what point are medications crossing over into prolonging or changing our fate? Just a thought.
Pills. More pills. Every time one of them walks by they say "Here, Mrs. O'Donnel, I've got some pills for you." Well what if I don't want your damn pills? I am an old woman, life runs it's course. Pills are just prolonging fate. So instead of medicating me and making me drowsy and fuzzy, let me live out my life clearly and soberly. So what if those pills you're pushing might let me live an extra two months? Two months compared to the 97 years I have already lived is nothing more than a mere moment. So instead of taking those pills you hand to me in those little plastic cups I am going to say "No, thank you." and keep on living. And until that changes you can just take those pills and shove them where the sun don't shine.
writing since 2011 · 8 entries · 5 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Jessica showed up.
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pillscowardtellinglovemakinglivehandfractionyesdonangryperfectbestnightcouldnloved