Featured Image: Alexis Nyal
Two days in and I’m still alive.
What felt like death in a blue pill
Became my new breath of life.
Yet, as easily as I’ve been resuscitated,
I feel like the life has been taken out of me.
When my brain was jumbled spaghetti
And my thoughts the savory meatballs,
My newfound breath of life
Has cut them up like a knife.
When I can’t find my words,
The life that’s been breathed in me
Can also blow out the fire of my mind.
When my mental health was at its lowest point, I was given a prescription of Prozac. My mood didn’t dip like before, but I wasn’t happy, either. I was experiencing an unintended side effect. I was always numb and couldn’t even focus long enough to string words together. My writing took a big hit when I was on Prozac, and my grades at school were even worse. It was a horrible moment in my life. Once I got to a better place in my life, I stopped taking my medication because I could not bear the side effects any more. Writing is such an important part of my life. This medicine, that was supposed to help me, was crippling me. “Prozac” is a reflection of this frustrating time.
On a related note, this poem is a reflection of my personal experience on depression medication. This is not intended to be medical advice. If you’re on Prozac or a similar medication, don’t make changes to your regimen unless explicitly told to do so by a healthcare professional. My side effects on Prozac will not be the same ones that you experience. This poem is for literary purposes only.