the drawing of the 13: a nightly dance of hate

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first off, happy sept 11 to all, yay america, and happiest o birthdays to my girl clem in Maine. 💜💜

my body and mind are a broken wasteland — like mrs o’s porcelain dolly here — and thus the motivation for my nightly pharmaceutical ballet: 2 boops, 2 baldies, 3 gabby p's, a bean, a rice, 2 diarrhea pillz, vitamin d, & a couple muscle tissue supplements. throw in a xanny or ativan when panic decides to attacccc the party. these are my pillsies, my warriors against the chaos inside me. i hate this nightly ritual: a carefully orchestrated dance between me & my drugz. did i mention i’m afraid & incapable of pill swallowing? it’s an ordeal.


i'm supposed to take gabby p's for panic in the morning too, but who remembers? not me. these medications are my lifeline, even if i hate taking them. each pill is a smol yet sacred act of rebellion against my bod's genetic limitations. it's a way of managing my mental & physical health. it's the solution i have right now.

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