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This was my rather angsty response to my doctor/school/family wanting me to go on citalopram.
-the drug they’ve put my father on due to the fear he’ll become depressed over his stroke.
-the drug my sister’s been on for her head aches.
-the drug my boyfriend’s been on when his anxiety is too high to eat.
..the drug his aunty has been on because she’s a nurse and its tough..
..the drug his pharmacist is on, when he asked her if he could drink while taking them and she responded “I do”.

-well, at least I can still drink wine..

Vist Natalie Esther's Profile


I’m fucking immortal.
I know there’s something different about me.
My blood isn’t running through my veins the right way,
I can hear it panting, hissing,
erging me to do something detrimental to this world.

I need to hurt it somehow.
Make some ghastly scar across its dark heart.
I look at the feastering greed and I’m flooded.
Drunk with the hysteria. 
This isn’t normal but it doesn’t make me wierd.

I’m going to do something.
Something so grand, something so fierce
and hungry you won’t see me coming.
I’ll move and moan and squirm.
Drag my heavy body out of the fist that is holding us all in place.

I’ll bite and tear at its flesh.
I’ll scavange and hunt and breed within the debris.
I’ll fix this. I’ll scream and suddenly nothing will be the same anymore.

There’s ants running under my skin.
Eager to get out and scuttle across ever inch of rotting bone and tissue.

I just want to be alive.


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