I did that, mom! It’s perfectly okay for you to be sad around me. The words we want to always hear from a loved one. SO do it. Be sad. You decide to finally not pretend one day. One day you think “ah. Today is the one, I’m not gonna pack away my sad feeling into a tiny little ring box I store her in. I’m gonna let her roam around the floor a bit longer.” A tiger on its grass. A buoy floating mindlessly in one blue spot of the sea. Let the sadness sit there and see what it does. It becomes annoying - not to you - you accepted her. To the ones around you.
(oh go on then, it’s Christmas). I’m not talking about the prozac nation (how the hell was that thirty years ago) that gets hammered home in a typical Easton Ellis novel. I’m not giving space to the medicated middle-class who force-snooze their kids to deal with their high pressure jobs. I’m not talking about the glamorised use of prescription drugs, to then follow it down the line of deposition, and come to a cold hard addiction that addles its inhabitants overseas and next door. I’m talking about the choice between the unregulated and the recommended. I’m talking about the choice to take both.