GOODNIGHT
Wake up. That voice again. Not as loud as before, probably now, giving up on me.
Easy on those pills.
Easy on those pills.
Take easy on those pills.
His voice, echoing softly, while I stare at the bottles being taken from the shelves.
Take easy on those pills
"Miss . . ."
I was brought back to earth.
"Would that be all?" the lady behind the drugstore counter asked.
She looks as confused as I am. I wonder how long I stayed standing up straight like a goddamn robot not even blinking, no sign of life, staring at their shelves. Maybe she thought I was dead here for a sec.
I know she knows with those sorry eyes that those pills were for me as she hands me my ID and made me sign the dangerous drug waiver.
She placed the yellow bottles of my prescription pills on the counter making sure I check them and that they are complete before she puts them in the brown paper bag.
Where was I?
Did I just zoned out and made another scene in my head? I was just with Lee. I was kissing him.
Right?
. . . right?
I quickly put the cash on the counter, not even bothered to get my change. I grabbed the small bag of my life and went out of the store faster than the Flash would. I opened the door of my car, my hand sweaty as fuck and my grip went tighter than usual on the steering wheel as I tried so hard to catch my breath like I joined a marathon. I think I'm having a panic attack, God, I wish I was normal.
"Fuck, fuck, FUUUUUCK," and a little more fucks were the only words my mind can offer me while I rest my head on the steering wheel. I search for my phone in my bag sitting right at the passenger seat, my house keys, and a lipstick tube falling on the car floor. I wanted to call Lee, but my fingers went to search for Frank's number as if it has a mind of its own.
Ringing him for the fourth time, my calls went unanswered. Where is the perfect boyfriend when you need him?
"Please . . ." I whisper softly while I choke a little on my own sobs. "Pick up."
"Of course, you have Lee again . . ." Dr. Lucas' face flashed in my mind, as if it was mocking me for being mental. What's that supposed to fucking even mean?
I don't need this now.
"Of course, you have Lee again..."
"Lee again . . ."
I did the breathing exercise, setting aside everything, counting in sync with my breathing, brushing off everyone's faces in my head.
I tried my fucking all to collect myself and calm my nerves before I start my car. I need to go home. I can't be stuck here crying and always feeling sorry for myself. I can't ask Lee to bring me home again, I don't even know if I should see him at all.
Thank God that the breathing exercise actually works more than the pills would ever. I think I'm just wasting chunks of money on those freaking little pills. It's like I'm buying my hope. And hope was supposed to be free.
My drive on my way home was quiet. I should have turned the radio on, but I let the click-clacking sound of the pills inside the bottles I just bought have complete control over me--as it should have, but not like this -- not with the sounds that they make. These fuckers has only been inviting a migraine to come and join the pity party. The idea of taking them all in one swig would end all of this misery that I'm in is enticing. I'm tired of losing my sanity. My mind is playing tricks on me every single day. I should better shut it off . . . shut it down completely.
