The oblong green and white pill slid down my throat.
It was a brave moment, one I had to do alone. It slid down easily, as if my throat had been long-awaiting this synthetic little ellipse.
I, with a lot of help from my friends, had experienced a long-standing battle with this moment: “It’s unnatural,” “You won’t be yourself anymore”; “You will make crazy decisions”; “I won’t know you.”
I still let this moment happen.
I could leave the house,
I could work without locking myself in the bathroom to cry every half hour.
I forgot the appeal of the strangling noose I’d make (the hardware store was just down the street).
I’m not ecstatic, some friends may not know me anymore, I make crazy decisions in any case, but I want to live. Sometimes I’m even happy. If you ask me why I am here, it is due to the moment a capsule made love with the chemicals in my stomach lining.