Thirty years ago I took an oath to uphold the constitution of my body and mind by choosing to forever take medicine that matches my brain chemistry so I would no longer think I was the eternal ruler of all distinguished men, indistinguishable from me but distinguishable from God. I still take it every day. After all these years I no longer hold onto the Earth, fists full of it, held high over my head to judge every man who thinks it is his to trample on, to build upon and to take from without earning it. Before I fall off for having a spine that wobbles in front of those who tread more lightly over those who prescribe obedience but don’t follow my wave of tranquility when self-medicating, I beat my fists upon my chest in opposition with no perceptible outcome. Perhaps they could benefit from a dose to avoid the crushing weight of lived experience in the extreme and fantasize about the weight of the world being greater for them when they miss a dose. Either way, to find a match for the chemistry of your brain when it is not from your brain is like looking up to the sky to find yourself in it. But still I look up every single day.
Atlas Drugged
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