Being off my meds, kept everything the same. If I had just laid off Elizabeth during dinner would this have even happened? My sister is a fuck-ass. At least that's what I said that night at dinner. Arguing in front of our little sister, Sam, is nothing new but Rose has had enough of it, especially when I called her a bitch. I don't believe her to be a bitch. She didn't deny me being a wacko, her own son, I just didn't know how to respond. To her face I refused to go back on my medication, I couldn't let her think she won. But I did take them that same night. That's when it started. My mother thought these pills would help me, that's what the psychiatrist said, what a bitch. Standing in the family bathroom, I just stood there staring into the mirror, not at myself, around me. It was like I was looking through the mirror more than looking at it. Reaching my hand up to it, it bounced back at me. It created ripples like tossing a stone into a lake. I should of known there and then. I seen Frank for the first time. He didn't say anything, neither did I. Was he actually behind me, or was he through the mirror, in a different domain. There were so many signs, none of them noticeable because of how far gone I was. I actually needed those pills, there was something wrong with me, my own mother thought I was a wacko. Trusting the psychiatrist shouldn't have came with doubt. The prescription was a fake, and I should have known, I was washed out, literally. I took them to get my mom off my back, inherently it was her fault. Would she have made me take them if she knew? She couldn't have known. What mom would rather their child take a fake when she knows something is wrong with them? It's twisted. That's how I felt, twisted, really, really, fucked up. The one thing I thought was helping, the person I trusted the most, one was a lie and the other lying to me. Those pills weren't helping, they were fucking placebos, just water, I didn't even notice. There were so many signs.
