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One moment I’m fine. It’s strange how one can switch from hopeful to a state of complete despair. When the fog is clear I can see all the
possibilities that lay before me – I am smart, I am beautiful, I am capable of success. In the next instant, total hopelessness. So aware of my
own emptiness, like a dark pit inside my soul, I become a disembodied spirit walking through life. The goal of the game is never to make eye
contact, head down, blend in and scurry to my bedroom as quickly as possible. Trying, trying, trying to soothe myself without numbing myself. I
used drugs to have the possibility that for one tiny millisecond I’d be okay in my own skin. My heart transfigures to a little fuller, warmer, I am
confident I can do anything. The notion is fleeting, I am searching for a permanent repair.
Unfortunately, I’ve come to realize there is no such thing as a quick fix or a substance that can make me whole. There is no magic pill.
Antidepressants certainly help my mood but it isn’t everything.
I Am Accepting of the Construct.
I will not be euphoric a hundred percent of the time. Optimistically, on the other side, I will not be depressed constantly, either. The objective
being to stay somewhere in the middle. Understanding that happy moods sober are ranked at six compared to fifteen using drugs is an
arduous task, since I crave intensity.
More than intensity, I crave health and happiness.
This is Stephanie Manzi‘s first contribution to Painted Brain News