I'm hitching myself to the horse in front. I'm joining the great American pill bandwagon. Yes, you read that right. I'm going to see a psychiatrist. All of my parents - my mom, my dad, every stepmom and every stepdad - take pills. You would think that we Mullakamakalakas have genetic predisposition to it.
It all came to me one night when I was looking at the night sky, remembering when there used to be stars. Now, I could only see maybe four or five faintly flickering lights, and I suspected that half of them were either satellites or airplanes. Such is my paranoia. I always feel like we're losing something for no reason.
I was thinking about my experiment with Prozac. Fluoxetine. I had taken a 20 milligram Prozac pill twice daily for two days just to see the effects. My dad has been taking Prozac for over 20 years. I got curious when I heard him muttering to himself about how the buzz hadn't kicked in yet one morning, implying that Prozac provided some kind of buzz (my dad also says disturbing things out loud without noticing it). Shrugging, I swallowed the first pill. Like father, like son. Within a few hours, my whole way of thinking was being revolutionized. The detachment provided by Prozac allowed me to look at most of my actions as being the result of an excess of emotion. I had too much empathy it was causing me needless stress. Excesses of emotion are impediments to enjoying the monotony of day to day life. I was spending all of my time going for long walks, writing, and playing the piano. All by myself. Basically, I am insane. Nobody I know can relate to somebody who thinks as much as me. Imagination is a trap, ensnaring your being in its own self. I could use a good dose of television right now. All of the phone calls I've been getting are computerized telemarketers and it's freaking me out. What's real?
For example, why was I vegetarian? My family and friends just thought that I was weird for it. It was if I was purposefully ostracizing myself. A deep truth was also gnawing at me. I had written on this site how purchasing sweatshop goods is an endorsement of the oppression of your fellow man. It's a thought I can't shake. Why am I going to care about animals? I'm basically a sociopath for Christ's sake (of course, when all of society is afflicted with sociopathy, no one is, if you can understand that nugget of relativity)! If I hate people, my own kind, what are animals to me? An animal is no company for a man. They're stupid! Most animals would either run away from me or attack me if I approached them. Fuck it, they're slightly worse than people. I might as well eat them. What is suffering and what is wasteful energy expenditure to me? Nothing, just like it is to you.
So I'm writing this while I eat a hamburger (literally). I realize that the Prozac mindset is what I need. I'm going to take pills. I'm going to not care. You'll like me better, I promise. From now on, I will only say things that are reassuring to your flimsy sense of self. I will reinforce everything you believe. Most people call that being intelligent. Boy, will I be smart now.
Somewhere, deep inside of me, the truth will slowly shrivel and die. Don't expect me to attend the funeral. Truth was a bitch to me. Fuck it. I have an appointment with a good psychiatrist tomorrow. No more crazy Mullakamakalaka. For once, I'll put a smile on all of their twisted faces. I'm writing this as a sort of tombstone for my former self. It's my epitaph. Have a great day!