Open/Bottle

The first time you stop taking the pills, you start to believe the bottle’s warning labels: cold sweats, shivers, longing, thoughts that you thought you’d stop having. Your first year of college you will meet a girl who tells you that she likes you better when you’re medicated, as if you are a garden of demons and your antidepressants are the right amount of winter. You dream of exorcism. All you do is dream for at least 14 hours a day. Your doctors tell you maybe that’s just what you need.

The second time you stop taking the meds, you have an easier time getting erections. That’s the only thing filling about missing your doses. You fuck, you jack off, you cry. Sometimes school and work mix themselves into these cycles long enough to make you want to fuck, jack off, cry. You can do all those things now, almost like you are rehabilitated. You will lie awake with a dry itch wanting to rip off your skin, realizing that there is no longer a difference between what keeps you alive and what feels like it’s killing you. You pray these drugs won’t leave a rash.

The third time, you stop taking the drugs, you start sleeping again. Your figure trims down and the migraines come back and the warning labels tell you you’re at risk for seizure. Something new seizes you every day anyway. Your roommate asks you why you’re crying. You stutter and leave the room. You’re always leaving rooms, conversations, classes. You’re trying to piece together whatever’s left. You always did love stained glass but you were still never good at mosaics.

The fourth time: you ask about treatment options, you are frank with your therapist and tell him you’re getting bad again. He freaks out, makes an appointment for you, reminds you of hospitals. You’re already tired but now it feels like his fist is practically down your throat. It's nice that he’s worrying. You want to be worried. You want to be something. Later that week, you find yourself praying into open pill bottles. You know no one’s really listening, You skip the sex and the porn and just cry. This time, all you do is cry. All you ever do is cry.