Course the day before I left, I was on my way to my doc to tell her I wanted off the zombie meds, and some old man plowed into me and my little car on his way to a restaurant. "ARE WE DONE HERE?" he bellowed after we'de exchanged info, "BECAUSE WE'RE GOING TO GO EAT." I stood dejected by my nearly totaled car waiting for the tow truck. Go eat, you fuck, I thought, looking around him for the whereabouts of my hubcap. I tried to open my door to retrieve my Hello Kitty journal, but it wouldn't go.
Never made it to my doc. Took it upon myself to stop my antidepressants once I'd returned from Hawaii (didn't want to go batshit crazy on a plane). I already have more energy and I'm less hungry. I can slowly feel my emotions coming back. Soon I'll resume sobbing over dog food commercials, but I'll be thinner while I'm at it, and damn it, I'll be me.