  Well, now I really have to stop drinking. No, I didn’t have another marathon of beer last night to make me say this (again). This time I’ve been slapped with a dangerous chemical side effect warning from my –new- psychiatrist. I’m not going to die if I drink. I just can’t drink like a hobo each and every day. How on earth can you diagnose someone with a mental illness in a thirty minute sit-down? This time it’s been refined to Bipolar II. This time I’ve been prescribed psychotropic drugs for it. Lamictal, Buspar, two other kinds of pills I can’t remember the names of without them sitting before me. in addition to the 300mg of Effexor and the Risperdal that made me gain weight. No more Elavil comas though; I’ll have to sleep excessively by my own power now.
I have to say that I’m worried. Not about how to manage life without liquor. It’s a real cramp in my lifestyle that I’d like to let go of. The fear is coming from the fact that I’m going to be on a lot of drugs, a lot of different and heavy drugs that I’m not used to. The last time I took a psychotropic? Depakote. I started crying, watching black shapes emerge from the wall and coming after me.
I have two more papers to write before finals are over. Is this a good time to be messing with my chemistry? I’m scared. I hate being crazy. For how I feel, the lack of control. And the measures I must take to pose as normal as a lot of other people. At least this may help with the anxiety, the despair, the cutting. The generalised pain that makes the day weigh so much. 
