I guess it’s probably inappropriate to write to you. Or at least weird. But there are a few factors at play here.
First, you are the only thing I could think of that starts with the letter X that has any significance to me. Sorry for using you this way.
Second, I’m a bit frustrated with you. I know I need you sometimes, but I can’t always have you because you make me so tired. How can I take you in and then have to explain myself when I fall asleep for three hours in the middle of the day? Don’t you see what happens? Don’t you know how it is? I have to hide my emotions. I have to cover up my feelings. I can’t use you often because there’s always the chance that when I do, all of my weaknesses will be revealed. I can’t have that.
Do you have any idea how difficult it is to feel the way I feel and not be able to do what I need to do because I have to hide my feelings… my emotions… my ‘condition‘? Of course you don’t know. You’re a pill. I’m a human. A fucked up one, but a human nonetheless. Of course, when I need you most, I do not feel human.
And third, you are one of the, if not the, only things that calms me when I’m having a panic-ridden outburst of fear and loss and despair. I need you more than I care to admit. Not in an addiction sort of way. I don’t take you enough for that to be an issue. It’s just that while I have a list of no less than thirty techniques to relax, to distract, to refocus, none of them matter when I’m panicking too much to even find that list, let alone try any of those techniques.
So, thank you, I guess. But I wish you could help me off the cliff without burying me in sleep. It seems there should be a balance somewhere in the middle, but I haven’t found it.
See you soon.
p.s. — Oh, who am I kidding? I already said it all.