#108: Little White Pills

“To destroy the home of a living thing is about as close to a sin as you can get, I think, but I don’t know if I even believe in that sort of thing anymore.”

I feel depressed today. I’m not sure why. Hopefully, writing this will help me find out. Writing often helps me find my way towards my inner knowing.

I’ve been taking my medication every day, but it doesn’t seem to work like it used to. I got prescribed after the separation a few years ago. It was meant to be a temporary fix for my anxiety and melancholy, which was interfering with work and life — but slowly, it became a new reality. I think it’s been three years now, and I still take those three little pills every single day, rain or shine.

They used to fill me with a certain numbness, an almost empty, affable happiness that could be somehow pleasant — when it wasn’t downright concerning.

Those little pills became a respite from my emotions. It felt akin to the Imperius curse in Harry Potter, in which a wizard suddenly finds themselves blissfully free from all of their earthly wants and pains, as they are under the control of another mind entirely.

With time, the medication became less effective. Now, I don’t really feel it at all. But I…