I have found my drug and I am taking it regularly. Though I am not sure an addict will be a the correct word to label myself with. Because this drug is different than the rest of them and the impact it has on me is different as well. But I can tell you that it's harming me, making me increasingly impatient and furious at times. Now my thick glasses are unable to hide the deep set dark circles that have formed under my eyes from losing sleep each night. I resemble a lifeless corpse just roaming around in a mechanical fashion, like an automated robot programmed to diligently follow the instructions. My colleagues enquire if I am doing okay, nice of them to even notice at all, I force a smile on my pale lips and lie that I am fine. I am taking my medication for depression. I wonder if they are helping at all. Sometimes I like overdoing it. It started with curiosity but now it has turned into a habit. The moments of euphoria and clarity of mind it offers me, even just for a while, I cannot get enough of it. That feeling is unlike any other. I keep increasing the number of pills. Provides me with temporary relief and doubles the side affects. It costs my sleep and I've heard it gradually damages the brain, well that explains my state. I guess there's a small price to pay for everything. Sometimes I even take sleeping pills to force myself to rest. It is like my body has become dependent on chemicals and forgot how to function on its own. It all dates back to six months ago when the shattering news of my miscarriage has left me with no will to live and this was for the second time my dreams and hopes came crashing down. Unable to bear the sight of me sinking into deep despair, it was my husband who suggested that we should consult a physician to assist with my condition. Initial days felt fine but it took a sharp turn as soon as I got burdened with work load and to cope I clutched tightly on to those pills. I kept myself busy and worked like a machine that needs no rest or time to feel. I pushed everyone away, my friends who cared for me, maybe I just needed some time alone but ended up isolating myself. It has affected my relationship with him as well. He had no idea about my addiction until very recently which lead us into a big fight. Keeping him in dark about my condition when he could have helped, I guess it was not a right thing to do. I have so much more to apologise for. It has killed my sexual drive as well, I no longer got aroused or felt the need to make love. He has approached me many nights but everytime I have only denied. I cannot provide him with any comfort, physical or emotional. As terrible and miserable I feel, I am certain he is going though hell as well just by being with me and tolerating my every cold and insensitive response for months, to no fault of his own. I am scared what if just like my unborn child one day I will lose him too. Now my appearance has declined, I look like that of a potato, fat and bloated and losing hair at a rate faster than before. I wonder if this ever comes to an end, will we be able to mend our gaps and move on with life. Will he find me attractive and desire me after this and what if he cheats on me, will that be justified?
This fear resides in almost everyone, some stay there hiding behind the fear and some come out of it..loving and living wholeheartedly even though they know their fears can come true.
I hope it's all fictional and has no resemblance to reality.