GYAAAHHH! Okay okay, prologue is short! But I didn't know how else to…put it. I hope you like it anyway! Second chapter will come out soon!
When I was nine, I was diagnosed as a depressed bi polar. Now I'm fifteen, and I'm addicted to my medication.
My addiction didn't start right away though. It was when I was thirteen, and I'd refused to take my medication the night before. I had two backpacks packed and I tried to run away. My grandfather found me not long after though, and of course, I was in trouble. He forced me to take my meds, and an extra pill to top, saying something about how I was a disappointment and why couldn't I be more like my brother. I got upset so I locked myself in my room and took three extra pills than was necessary. And that's when it started.
I began to feel numb- blissfully numb. I didn't feel angry or sad or giddy anymore, I was just numb. The abnormal lack of emotion was amazing. An escape. I didn't have to worry about anything anymore. So I began to up the dose on a regular basis. At first, I was cautious, and only took one or two pills more than I was prescribed. I didn't let Grandpa or my brother go out to get my prescription anymore and to them I just seemed calm. I didn't fool them for long though. About a year ago, just a couple of extra pills wasn't enough. I began to take three to even five more pills at a time and that's when my brother started to notice a difference. I began to zone out, just sitting around and staring off into space, not acknowledging anyone or anything. I would also eat less- a lot less- and sleep a lot more. At first, Feliciano just thought I was becoming an anorexic. But one day he came into my room- which I had a strict rule with my family that NO one was allowed in my room- and found my stash of prescription bottles that I'd emptied and hidden. I was asleep on the couch at the time, and didn't know he found out until after Grandpa died a year ago. He was upset and lashed out at me. He told me he found the bottles, that Grandpa was right, that I was a screw up and a disappointment and how it was no wonder that he was Grandpa's favourite.
He moved out then, moving in with his boyfriend, Ludwig. I despised Feliciano for about seven months, hating him for leaving me, and loathing that he left me for the German bastard. But I didn't say anything. I just locked myself in my room and took my pills, gladly letting all my troublesome emotions disappear. Eventually Feliciano came back to me, crying because Ludwig had dumped him. He apologised to me- sort of. He said he was only coming to live with me until he found his own place and that he still thought I was going to hell and the usual verbal abuse he always fed me. I let him stay of course- he was my brother after all. Living with him was its own hell though. He wouldn't talk to me or acknowledge my presence in any way, but when he did, he only cursed my name and called me a failure. I put up with it because he was still my brother.
About three months ago, after I'd failed to pay mortgage for almost a year, I was kicked out of my house. Feliciano had a friend waiting for him in a car- Kiku or something- and left me with my clothes and my drugs. I didn't have any friends, so I ended up in a community home and attended the nearby high school- I'd dropped out when Grandpa died. The volunteers were nice enough. At least they didn't call me a failure and a junkie cursed to hell. They helped me get a job at the local McDonalds with a fat ass boss named Alfred with an ego bigger than his appetite for the shit food I was forced to sell. All around, my life should have been looking up. But I was still upset over my family and continued to take my prescription to the next level.
Now, I am still at the community home with a steady job at minimum wage and a loner's life at school. And my addiction. You may be wondering, why don't I just quit the pills? Believe me, I've tried- being hated by your brother is pretty motivational when you take the time to think about it. The only thing is, I can't handle the emotions. I don't like feeling overwhelmed with anger or any other emotion without a reason. I don't like feeling out of control of myself. I don't like FEELING. It's just better for me to be numb.
So yes, I have tried to get off the pills. And no, I have not succeeded. Life's a bitch, huh?
Well, that's my past. Have fun reading the rest.