insomnia

medicine

On my wooden dresser sits three bottles.
Each one bears the white label, containing my name, because either my problems are too specific or the pills are too strong to give to anyone with an id, and I'm not sure which one I'd prefer it to be. I have water bottles scattered around my floor amongst the dirty clothes and food wrappers I couldn't have been bothered to pick up for when I don't want to look at my mother while swallowing the solidified form of sanity.
One pill. It's a light blue color and I don't know why. It's small enough to where I can balance it on the nail of my smallest finger. I wonder why.
Two pills. I can't sleep, I can hardly ever sleep. It's white, and I don't know why. White is pure. Shoveling chemicals through my throat that my body is supposed to make on its own is not pure. I am not pure. I swallow with another gulp of room temperature Walmart brand water.
Three pills. This one is not as small as the first, not as big as the second, white. I still don't know why. A better color for this would be red. Because all I can see is red, red, red, and I'm shaking. I'm convinced my ears are filled with blood because the only sound I can hear is my heart in my head and I almost forgot to take this. I don't know how long it will take to start working, I don't know if it will even work, because it's three am and I still can't sleep. My mind won't stop yelling at me and it's so loud but I can't hear anything at all and I don't want to take this. I don't want to swallow the solidified sanity but I don't want to be insane.