Sertraline

Anxiety with depression is what the doctor said and prescribed me sertraline. Turns out the side effects are making me worse by a fair few miles but luckily, it’ll apparently only be for a week or so. In the mean time I can live life like Charlie from It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia, tweaking from one moment to the next it’s the fucked-up adventure I’ve been dying for. In my quest to have a sunnier disposition I’ve signed myself up for at least six months of altering my brain chemistry which will be six months of learning to be careful for what I wish for.

I realise that it’s been a while since I wrote anything worth posting, the rest is just patch work fictional universes scribbled in notebooks. Unfortunately, it’s just furthering the image of the scuzzy weirdo in every mystery movie that I’ve got going right now. Who knows, by the end of the week I’ll be so panicked by my own shadow that I create a Thomas Cole style epic out of the my now very water bowel movement depicting something borne of Lovecraft. The isolation of my room is definitely self-inflicted – as is this whole situation as a matter of fact considering my own brain is working against me – but it’s been a peaceful few days.

It’s incredible how little things really change if you just remove yourself from the situation. It’s an eye opener, a feat of the universal imperative that despite the individual, things just keep spinning. Every so often I get a text about how some one’s been a twat or a reminder of new Netflix series that’s just been released. It’s the same relentless shit the world over whether we’re a part of it or not. That argument falls apart when you’re someone like Donald Trump or I don’t know, someone whose existence is worth while like people trying to cure cancer. What about God? What would happen if God just took their hands of the wheel, would we even know? I’m not even sure if there was ever someone driving. We’re just hurtling down the highway of galactic history in this out of control stagecoach trying not to shit ourselves.

But what the fuck do I know? I’m just a twenty-year-old on SSRI medication just so I can see through my final year of university without going feral. Personally, I think of myself as being a little bit pathetic, I mean I’ve got so much privilege that I don’t know what to do with it. A cosmic ‘fuck you’ to balance the score? Like I said, I have no idea, I’ll just keep on winging it and hoping on keeping it together. It’s the most any of us can.

Sertraline

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