Irritability turned into an irrational amount of rage, I don’t typically have rage.
Screaming to myself, and knocking things over turned into weeping on the kitchen floor.
“It’s not me, It’s not me.” I say to myself, both hands placed on the sides of my scull, fingers clawing at my own hair as I sank into my confusion.
It’s the pharmaceuticals leaving me, and I’m scared that this will be what it’s like without them.
“It won’t be, it’s not me…look at me!” I thought to myself.
They are just side effects.
“Hang on, it’s almost over.”, but it is a war. It is a war that I am winning. War isn’t beautiful, but you come out changed.
I will be, I am, I can’t control this one. Let it handle itself, hang on.