My mail order Zoloft finally arrived, two months late. I didn’t off myself or anybody else; I didn’t wreck my car, or have ill-advised sex with a stranger. I didn’t quit my job or yell at my boss. One could say that my crazy pills arrived in time.
On the other hand, I did begin a minor fling with a young… very young… fellow from work. That can’t have been a good
idea. I’m hoping he doesn’t find “sane” me as appealing as crazy me, and he’ll just quietly go away.
I’m going to miss crazy me. Life on the roller-coaster is amazing when you’re on the ascent. I’ll miss singing and dancing in public. I’ll miss laughing out loud at dumb movies. And, if I’m honest, I’ll miss flirting with the sweet young thing from work. I could regret losing all of this, if I didn’t know that the roller-coaster always goes down again. There’s no escaping gravity.
And this insomnia is killing me! Sane me sleeps… I miss sleeping.
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