Defined by my medication

I’ve become defined by my medication. My personality is my addiction, but it’s not drug abuse because my doctor gave me a prescription. I’ve never felt so normal, but it’s never quite the same. Yet I lose a part of me with every pill I swallow and I question if this is the real me or an artificial clone of who I should be. A stranger that smiles back in my reflection or a friend that weeps. I’m lucky there’s a solution, but I do miss the lows, the drama, the drive, the flux of emotion. Does that make me a terrible person or is it just the medication? My mental crutch, my sword or my shield, or maybe my kaleidoscope? I prefer the last, the colours and shapes I never saw. Now I’m more convinced I’m head fucked on my meds. I’m becoming defined by my medication, anti-depressant, full of energy, cartoonish vinegar and a lack of reality. A mix of chalk, hormones and modern science miracles.

So this is normal?

The sky seems so much brighter and the world is such a shiny place to be in. I can’t believe one little pill has changed so much in my life. Riding on the bus is just so ordinary and the people on the street are not so intimidating. When I get to work I’m full of energy and hype. Milling through the days I work with a song in my head and heart. Is this what it’s like to be ‘normal’, since normal feels kind of strange? I am can feel some other side effects and I don’t know what to say. I can’t cry, but only sigh. I don’t lie to be people who have hurt me, I’m brutally honest. When I should feel sad or stress my brain just switches off and I fall to sleep. I’ve developed emotional narcolepsy. I reboot good as new and work on, but I know something just isn’t right. There’s a cost to me feeling ‘normal’ and the cost is my personality. I live in a world without sorrow and suffering, but without it do I really appreciate what I have gained? This isn’t real; I’ve swapped a nightmare for a dream.