THE MEDICATION

I can feel it-- the medication. It's so weird sometimes to think that pills can restore your soul. If I take the pills, I'm alive. If I don't take the pills, I'm not functional. Doesn't that seem surreal? Like some kind of eerie, Big Brother type, horror novel one reads and is thankful that life isn't like that.

I'm not mad or upset really; it just seems strange. But I can feel it inside me. I'm happier now. "Happy" may not be the right word because I've learned that depression-- at least my symptoms-- is not about sadness, but a disinterest in life. I'm not sad; I'm just bored and I don't want to do anything. So the medication isn't really making me "happy," although it is to some extent, rather I'm feeling an interest in doing things again. And I find myself humming again, and listening to music again, and being silly again, and even enjoying some aspects of work again. Life isn't so bad again.

And I owe it to medication. Doesn't that seem surreal?