acquiesence. (draft one)

I awake, bathed in sweat, convinced that I'm still dreaming, aware yet longing for the truth to unfold. I walk to my bathroom and turn on the faucet. My hands form a cup as I lower them to the basin full of water. An eerie sensation overcomes me, causing my skin to crawl as frigid soul refreshing baptismal liquid slides down the surface of my face. Each moment feels real enough to believe that a pinch would hurt and yet time and space aren’t coinciding. Am I alive, dreaming, or severely sedated?

I peer into a mirror that never lies and see visions of a forgotten past. A face of perpetual fear stares back, smiling, hoping that I’ll accept him as a reflection of myself. A voice in the distance is laughing as a snake begins to slither into the room, tempting me to give in, tempting me to give up, to lose control and curl up in fetal position, to shout out for my mother to save me from the madness. “Left or right, fight or flight, left or right, fight or flight,” I mentally repeat in a bout of near hysteria and yet I’m frozen stiff, afraid to make a move. Nerve endings explode with apprehension. I’m pleading with a god I’ve denied exists. Time accelerates at break-neck speeds, bringing with it my heartbeat, leaving my body and any semblance of control. In a last ditch effort I reach to a wooden drawer and pull out a scored white pill, 100mg, and toss it in my mouth. The taste is bitter and harsh and I cringe as it scrapes the back of my throat. “Sexuality or Sanity” my reflection responds, but I can hardly accept such terms. In a fit of rage, I slam my fists into the marble counter and shout to the firmament, “Why are those my only fucking choices, why must I choose between one or the other, god damn it, just give them both back to me…..what have I done to deserve neither? WHAT, FUCKING tell me what I’ve done, TELL ME!!!” A tear would form at the base of my eye if I was capable of displaying such emotion. My stomach begins to absorb the pill as a warm feeling of calm dissipates any lingering anxiety. I realize how futile such a display was and yet I’m so frustrated I know not where to turn. “A joint or a bottle of jack, that’s what you need,” my reflection responds, as it begins to roar a rolling thunderous laughter that fills the entire room with confusion.

I open the door in an attempt to escape back to the serenity of an uncomfortable bed, stepping into a waiting room saturated in fluorescent light. Expired People magazines align the counter and the smell of disinfectant nauseates my stomach. A knock on the door stirs the silence as a fiftyish jovial male doctor enters the room. He lowers his bifocals and surveys the clipboard resting on his stomach. “Well son, there’s not much I can do for you.” “But you’re the top doctor in your field in all of Chicago,” I want to mutter but my lips won’t open. “In twenty five years of work, I’ve never seen a case like it and I really can’t figure any medical basis for why you’re suffering.” My heart sinks through the second and first floors, ending up somewhere in the basement where a janitor’s mop is tossing it from left to right, covering in filth and muck. I can’t help but squirm as my blood begins to boil from the certainty that there are no solutions to my disposition, no pinch that will “snap me out of ‘it.’” I slam my fist against the counter causing it to shatter into a thousand indistinguishable fragments of a distorted reality.

Subconscious fears become mixed with dream state illusions and yet my physiologic response is very real. I’m tossing and turning, throwing pillows from the bed, rambling nonsensically. My feet manage to kick the cat from the bed that then sends a glass of water from the bedside table crashing to the floor. A harmonic thud cuts through the silence resonating loud enough to bring waking consciousness to my body and mind. I pull the covers close and cringe as the residue of soul stirring reverie fades into the present. It’s four o’clock in the morning and I’m alone, lost, and afraid, stuck in a vicious state of mental disturbance, one issue dove-tailing with another, no scientific answers, no spiritual solutions. The frigid darkness closes in as I rise to both feet and head towards the bathroom, acquiescing to the control modern medicine wields over my fragile mind. “Sanity it is,” I mutter as I toss 100mg of Zoloft to the back of my throat and swallow.