Why is it that I need a pill to be happy? Is having a loving family, supportive friends,

and a roof over my head, not enough? I often ponder this and wonder why I depend so

much on a small pill to make me want to live. Of all the privileges I have and my wants

being met, I still feel as though my life is slowly ending every day. The feelings of

hatred, fear and utter sadness all come flooding back until I take that one tiny pill. Is

this what I’ve been reduced to? Am I so dependent that I need a drug to be okay? I stop

taking them to prove to myself that I don’t need them to be happy, only to be

disappointed. I see my lowest self come out when I don’t take the happy pills. I see part of me I don’t want anyone else to know about. I see a little girl with a broken

childhood and an addict of a mother. I see a child, filled with fear and pain not knowing

if it would get any better but also thinking her home life was normal. I see something I

wish was never there. That monster is only tamable with 20mg of Fluoxetine. Every day.

She is a monster of harm and anger. That anger protrudes outwards onto the people

around her, especially the ones she loves the most. I guess what I’m saying is that

happiness is an odd thing. No matter how many people are in your corner or if all your

wants and needs are met, that doesn’t determine your happiness. A small prescribed

drug is what dictates your happiness.