I hate you.

 (I would apologize for double-posting in one night if I was sorry. But I'm not.)

Dear Pills,

I hate you.
I don't hate very many things in my life but I hate you.
I know you're prescribed and I need you to get through the day
and I've seen what happens when I forget
but I hate that I have to rely on you. All of you. There are so many of you.
Why do I have to take so many of you, anyways?
Right. Because nothing in my body works the way it's supposed to.
I'm broken, remember? and you're supposed to fix me
just enough to get me through school, through homework, until the next morning.
I hate camp-outs and vacation and tour when I have to bring all of you
and I hate that at this point, all of your different bottles have to be put in
a gallon-sized bag instead of a sandwich bag
cause there are too many to fit in a small cranny of my suitcase anymore.
You demand the giant front pocket.
and I hate you for it.

I hate you. I don't hate many things in life but I hate you a lot.
I hate that nurses always ask me to rate my pain on a scale
so they can decide if I'm really in pain or if I just want to take you for a good time
and I hate that my mom has to answer sometimes because I'm incapacitated
and I hate that you make me woozy (especially the kind for pain) but we have you stockpiled from all the surgeries
and I hate that we have to hide you so my brother can't steal them
and I hate hospitals and how they smell and how you bring the smell home
and I hate visits and awkward silences and I pick at my hospital wristband until they leave
and I hate not even being able to swallow you and instead getting a needle in the crook of my arm
and I hate being broken.
and I don't blame you because I can't
but I do hate you.

I hate you.
I don't hate very many things in my life but I hate you so much.
I know it wasn't you that landed my brother in a jail cell,
it was his choices...
but I hate that he came straight to you again once he got out.
What does he see in you, anyways?
All you ever do is cause harm, make him sick
sick to his stomach, sick in his head
but you torture him back into your demonic embrace every time
forcing him to steal expensive things and sell them
just so he can afford to love you.
he doesn't even see what you're doing to him.
and I hate you.
I hate you for ruining his life.
I hate you for being a part of his life.


Dear pills...
I HATE YOU.