You know what I think it is? I think it's the meds. I think it's that bottle of blue and turquoise pills that make me feel normal, and I think it's that I haven't gotten my prescription refilled and that I haven't gone to see the school psychiatrist. When you get right down to it, I think it's the meds that explains why I'm feeling this way, so changeable. It's always worse if I quit them by accident or on purpose, nearly worse than if I never were on them. Stupid that it took so long, if you get right down to it. Sometimes I try to imagine what life would have been like if I had stayed on them. I would have been more tolerable, politic, and still authentic (that's what I fear - being inauthentic. I'm not making this up, it governs the way I act. If I am sudden or surprise you, it's because I don't want to be inauthentic, it's because things feel wrong.) But there are ways of being authentic to what I see and feel that don't necessitate my being mean. Stupid of me, stupid of me to wait so long. I should have known better. I should have recognized what would make things better.
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