Hello Antidepressants

Source: nlm.nih.gov

Source: nlm.nih.gov

Hello Antidepressants.

It seems that my body has finally started getting the hang of you.

Your SNRI molecules are not proving to be half as nauseating as they used to be, and probably not half as painful. If only I were disciplined enough to always take you with the meal, but sadly my more emotional-self does not, cannot, wait long enough at times. Especially when it is getting out of control.

I am still not sure if I can properly work when I am under your influence, or even remain conscious while I am awake. Though I am supposed to be by now. Guess there is no option, but to keep on trying.

I am actually supposed to take you every day. But should I?

But do I want to be under your influence? Tricky question.

The answer is yes, and no.

I can’t say I can withstand the pain you cause, to put up with the debilitating brain zaps, but I can’t say if I want to give up the pleasure of numbness you offer along with it. I can’t say I don’t enjoy the altered electric sactivity disabling the more uncertain parts of myself.

Do I like what you are doing to my brain, and my body?

Again, yes and no.

But that’s why you are supposed to be medication.

I am glad I have a new friend.

I am not saying goodbye to you.

 

Hello Antidepressants.

It’s going to be a lifelong ride.

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A Self-Inflicted Loss

Source: vector-eps.com

Source: vector-eps.com

It happened to me again.

All over again, deja vu. History repeating itself.

Just when I thought I had learned all my lessons. Just when I thought that it would never happen to me again, it just did.

No, it wasn’t an accident. Or maybe it was. But it was certainly my own doing. My own fault.

I shattered my world with my own hands.

I did this to myself. A self-inflicted wound.

A self-inflicted loss.

I am the architect of my own misery.

With false pride, anger, hubris, decadent complacency and impulsive misery,

I have broken the glass of my memories, while I could have saved it, while planning to save it, and nothing can put it back together now.

All I have now is regret. Regret, and false solace.

A suspended consciousness.

I’m helpless, longing for somebody to help me… though I know no one can.

At least somebody to reach out to. Though with never the right answers.

There is no right answer.

I’m helpless, but not regretting existence, or probably doing so.

I know nothing is more precious than life, and love of the loved ones.

Nothing is more important.

 

That’s what keeps you going, to let you fight another day.

To let you live another way.

 

Life is Precious

Source: Alamy/The Guardian

Source: Alamy

It may be a painful experience overall, and it maybe overrated, but there are certain things about life which make it so precious.

One of the reasons life is precious is precisely because of that painful experience.

What makes life so precious is your time with your loved ones. And there is not a second of which I would want to trade with anything, especially death.

But just when you start taking it for granted, and especially come close to taking it away, you realize how precious life is.

 

Yes, indeed, I want to live.

For every single second that I can be with those I love.

 

In Hell

Source: amusingplanet.com

Source: amusingplanet.com

So how does it feel to be in hell?

It doesn’t even matter if you believe in it or not. Living through it is perhaps only a matter of time.

It’s constant pain. Constant agony. Constant regrets. A sense of loss that doesn’t go away. Something you have lost that will never come back. All alone. Vulnerable.

It is when your existence becomes a case study of the Murphy’s Law.

It is when history repeats itself and you watch it happening. Condemned to.

It is when you fail to learn from your mistakes and know you won’t. Curse yourself for it.

It is when your indulgence leads you to the sort of informed and conscious complacency that you can’t help resist.

It’s like looking a maneater in the face and waiting for him to devour you.

It’s like staring into the face of a distant train approaching and waiting for it to hit you.

It is like perpetually falling from a height and just expecting to hit the ground the next moment and starting over again.

It is when you wish you never existed. But isn’t that always true, even when pleasure is wrapped around you.

It is when you simply wish you could go back in time… Time… Time… Isn’t it always about it?

It is when you give up hope.

It is when you look for a rope.

It is when you wish you had no regrets… you thought you had no regrets…

 

It is when you find out that life is one big regret.

 

 Source: Polygram Filmed Entertainment/Universal

Death as Tooth Decay

Source: topnews.ae

Every step we take is a step towards death. We long for it.

Every little action, every biochemical reaction, every poison we take in, every word we speak and get to hear in response to it, contributes to our ultimate, impending demise.

Have you ever wondered what dying and death would feel like?

As a matter of fact, nature has given us several clues into that. In terms of consciously perceiving it.

Forget about seeing the other person die. That is simply too distant for a physical being to experience death, despite the emotional pain.

But after observing the decaying death of a couple of my own teeth, it struck me with how analogous it was to death itself.

It is, apart from the skin, one of the few organs in the human body that dies within the normal course of a human life. That is, excluding accidents and more horrendous injuries from the possibilities.

The way the root hurts and the way it is taken care of is a great example of the transition from life to death.

And surely it is the transition that must hurt the most.

As Woody Allen said, I am not afraid of dying. I just don’t want to be there when it’s happening.

Well that precisely elaborates the inescapable predicament.

Life is precious, yes, but the act of dying seems to be the very inseparable part of it.

Dying almost seems like a function of life.

And hardly any other occurrence within our bodies exemplifies it better than tooth decay and extraction.

The ultimate tension, the electric shocks, the soul wrenching pull, when the tooth is pulled out and the ultimate peace and void when it is gone.

Or a tooth can even hang between life and death, even perpetually. Or at least for a very long time.

I don’t know about it and I can’t be sure, but I can tell that it must be representative of a life condition as well.

Or perhaps it is representative of the very condition that our lives are in. You know, the state of somewhere hanging between our lives and deaths.

With our souls longing to be somewhere else than the body, or so it seems. Or perhaps our bodily chemicals hating what we are doing to ourselves or are made to do to ourselves.

A tooth is like a tiny version of ourselves, the one we hardly know or feel, and the one which we can even afford to live without. Which dies away without leaving a trace, and which is replaceable, at least in its function, with a prosthetic replica.

I am not even sure if we can replace people with a prosthetic replica. We do, but not the people we love.

Just the people we need and can never meet or have.