There�s something innately wrong about starting a new drug two days before Christmas when your shrink is gone. The list includes:
Whee! I�m on a new drug. Its Christmas. I don�t know the effects of it and yet I�m going to a house full of relatives anyways!
Why am I suddenly sleeping 18 hours a day and feel like I�m totally stoned the other six?
Hey, I�m kinda amusing when I�m stoned. I can even hear myself talk but there�s this weird reverb noise and everything seems to be echoing. What�s up with that?
Why do I suddenly feel like I�m watching myself on a video, even though I�m just standing there listening to my brother talking in the middle of Target. And yet I felt like I could go up in some operating booth, look down on the scene and say: �Okay, now we�re gonna zoom in on witty and do a voiceover.
Witty:�Why am I standing here listening to my brother babble on and on? Blah, blah, blah. Me, me, me. He did stop once and said I looked �artsy�. Must be my beret. Yeah. And the fact that I have large dark circles under my eyes and yet appear extremely wired and agitated. Did he notice that? Doubtful. Its my brother after all.
Why did I draw our model tonight with arms made out of cactus and the word �POOP� under her butt?
I don�t know either.
And what the hell did I do with that bag of M&Ms I bought yesterday? I tore my house apart like Jack Lemmon in �Days of Wine and Roses�, looking for those feakin� M&Ms. Now where are they? Where!?? I need them NOW!!
And then I was wondering why everytime I tried to make a joke tonight, I came up with absolutely nothing. Zilch. I mean this is (cough) awittykitty we�re talking about. I felt like I was suffocating under a vast pillow of packing peanuts. I mean, where�s my funny?
I was so bland and well-behaved at our family Christmas party (meaning my pentacle was out of view), that my Born Again Christian cousin didn�t even try to convert me.
So I�m not sure how to take my behavior on this new medication. I needed some help with my depression this last month and I hadn�t taken anything new in years. But walking around feeling like I�m walking inside a giant Salvador Dali painting, is very disconcerting. Do I like it? Well, I�m actually a little scared by it. Should I just tough it out and hope that the otherworldly feelings go away. Or should I just wait until I don�t have a shred of spontaneity or humor left in my body and get mistaken for Dick Cheney.
I guess the choice is mine.
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