This is when I start to listen to them, boys mostly who always seem to think they know what’s best because they’re all so in touch with their own motives and triggers and emotions, and I start to think that maybe I don’t need these pills after all. Maybe they are a crutch. Maybe it is all a crutch. Somehow I seem unable to stand without a crutch. I can either accept that and use the crutch to still outrun my naysayers, or I can pretend I don’t need the help, like they pretend, and keep hopping along on one leg, without balance.
Or I can crumple up in a ball and roll around on the floor with the rest of them.
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