Rosa was giving me a hard time about my new medications this afternoon. My father took it upon himself to call his doctor friend and get me two new prescriptions for Xanax and Librium. I am to take them three times a day.
"I don't want to see you doped up," Rosa told me, worried.
"I have such terrible nerves, though," I replied. "Maybe they will help me."
"You will just sleep all the time," she said. "I used to take that shit and all it did was to make me hungry and sleepy – kind of like smoking dope."
I was caught in a corner and couldn't escape. My father will expect me to take all those pills every night with my medications for my schizophrenia. I didn't tell Rosa this, though.
"Will you promise me you aren't going to take that crap?" Rosa asked as we walked home from Rodger's Barbeque after lunch.
"I promise," I said, hoping I wasn't lying to my best friend.
The honest truth is that I want to feel different. I want to take those pills and sleep away my existence. I get so tired of dealing with my schizophrenia, my social anxiety, and my shaky nerves that I would welcome the escape. I realize I would just be substituting another substance for alcohol, though.