Crazy (BoyxBoy)

Medication

 It's one of those days today. You know the days. The days that your metaphorical brakes go out on the highway and you're left reeling. Its utter chaos and you think you might die, but you end up pulling off into the shoulder and surviving. I have these days about once a week and people are left walking on egg shells around me.

Except this time, it seems much worse. Because this time, its not my fault. Or it is. Or its nobodies. I don't know.

Okay, look. I stopped taking my meds. Not the antidepressants or the ones that help with my anxiety, but the ones that stop the crazy.

The antipsychotics.

It was so wrong of me to do, so reckless and stupid but I wanted to be normal for once. And I thought I was doing well until the whispering started.

The whispering is a jumble of voices, all at once and the words are indistinguishable. I hate them because they're the bad thoughts people have about me, but I can't hear the words. How dumb is it to have an ability like that and not be able to use it?

I freaked out. That's it. During dinner it got too loud, you know? They just wouldn't stop and I blacked out. Anyways, my parents took me to the hospital and put me on a new medication, Zyprexa. The doctor put me on a high dosage because he probably wants to kill me. I think he's poisoning me so he can learn my secrets, so he can learn what's going on inside my head. My mom said that's 100% inaccurate, but I highly doubt it. I do.

Not only do I feel sick, but my hands shake and I see so many things now. Things I know aren't real. Not the flying spaghetti monster or anything, but things like cats strutting through the house and butterflies landing on my hands. I know it's not real, but it makes life a lot harder for me.

But at least I haven't seen the man in the black robe yet. I'm hoping he's on vacation or something. I'm hoping he stays away from me for a while. He usually likes to show up and make all hell break loose. My parents hate him, too. Whenever I tell them he's around, they tell me not to listen to him and that it's better if I go to bed early.

But sleeping makes it worse for me. Because there are eyes on the ceiling and blood on the walls. I know it's dark, so I can't see the blood, but I can smell it. I can't sleep most nights, so the doctor gave me sleeping aid. It helps calm me down.

I take a lot of medicine. A lot.

The first is an antidepressant, Zoloft. I started that about three years ago, and it's supposed to also help with anxiety, but it sort of only makes mine worse. Being on it makes me tired, and sometimes I get angry. It's supposed to stabilize my moods, but it doesn't. Not really. Ever just have a bad day and suddenly everything around you and everyone is slowly starting to agitate you and you feel panicked and you want to be alone? That's what it feels like, but for no reason. But I can deal with my anger. I can go to my room or a room alone and calm down.

The second is my antipsychotic. That's the one that's supposed to make the chemicals in my brain play nice. It's called Zyprexa Zydis and it's okay, for the most part. I'm not supposed to take it four hours before bed time, since that's when I take my sleep aid. That's what makes sleeping so hard, though.

Because I hallucinate like a pirate on a boat with scurvy.

My sleep aid, Ambien, is a life saver. It puts me right to sleep most nights, and even when it doesn't, it happens in just a few hours so that I don't have to worry about things popping out at me all night long.

The last one is Perazine, which helps lower the dopamine receptors in my body so I don't hallucinate so much. I have an overactive brain, and the only way to shut it up sometimes is to take this. Of course, this only makes my depression worse, but that's what the Zoloft is for, right?