And under it all, lies the implication that the pill itself, will be the catalyst that provides the desired change.
But I am not Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole. This is no phantasmagorical tale that will be resolved with smooth allegory.
My memory is non-persistent: hanging limply from the framework of hours that constitute a day. Casually discarded between one word and the next, it is a vaguely recognisable shape that hints at its function; but distorted beyond practical use.
My body is twisted beyond my control: leaving the relationship between space, time and energy a corrupted comparison that shakes the very foundations of my perception and judgement.
My existence is the shadow cast across the third panel of the triptych: longingly looking back across the garden of my experience to happier and healthier times and wondering if that lightness of spirit can ever be recaptured.
My story, is not a quest for some understanding of logic, but one of re-establishing function: a balancing act between the cure and the cause.
And so I am forced to turn to the pharmacological pill to restore equilibrium to my days.
I choose to take the red and white pill to treat the pain; knowing that in turn it will aggravate the tremors, difficulty with speaking and dizziness I already experience.
But I take it so that it eases the burning ache in my joints so that I am able to lie down to sleep a few nights of the week.
I choose to take the pale pink pill to treat the migraine headaches; knowing that in turn, it will cause confusion, nightmares and ringing in the ears.
But I take it so that I don’t have to hide in darkened rooms for three days at a time, feeling as though someone is stirring my brain with a laser beam.
I choose to take the yellow pill and the small white pill to treat the nausea and vomiting; knowing that in turn, they will cause flatulence, dry mouth and pins and needles.
But I take them so that I don’t have to eat just to have something to throw up; retch so hard that I wet myself; nor throw up for so hard and so long that I experience excruciatingly burning chest pains when I drink water – or take a deep breath!
I choose to take the large white pill to treat the seizures; knowing that in turn, it will cause urinary incontinence, floppiness and weakness of the muscles and double vision.
But I take it so that I am able to complete the act of brushing my teeth – even if I have to rest for an hour after to recover from the activity.
On and on it goes. And through it all is the shrieking alarm that cries its recurring message to “Take Medication” at nine o’clock, ten o’clock, eleven o’clock and one o’clock; and then repeats the eight through ten calls again later each evening.
So … Blue Pill or Red Pill? The choice between what you understand to be true and the truth behind what you understand to be. Simple, really; isn’t it?
But I ask you: Is it still a choosing if I need the pills, rather than want them?
I only ask because right now, there is no turning back. What I understood to be true is no longer my reality. And my reality is not the truth that I wish it to be.
SO TELL ME: What do you think of this piece?
- Did it engage you?
- Does the meaning come across? Are there any images or lines you don’t understand or find unclear?
- Are there obvious errors in spelling, punctuation or grammar?
- Do you have any suggestions for revision?
Please be brutally honest in your assessments – good, bad or indifferent.
I don’t scare easily; and I really do want to hear what YOU have to say about my work.
Many thanks in advance for your time and your criticism.
- Recipe for Disaster
- The Invalid’s Answering Machine
- Sick ‘n’ Tired (An exploration of anger as a healing process)
- Daily Prompt: Red Pill, Blue Pill
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AUTHOR: I am might war. I have a love of music, the written word, travel, Anime, polar bears, people and “sticking and colouring”.