You see, I've gone on my own version of the Tet Offensive, not to drive out the "American Imperialists," but to drive out the reds! Yes, I've engaged a full head-on assault to rid forever the red scar-inducing pimple-landmines. The battleground is my face and neck. The weapon of choice is Isotretinoin, commonly known as Accutane. Well, let's pause for a moment here and see what Roche Pharmaceuticals has to say:
Some patients have become depressed or developed other serious mental problems while they were taking Accutane or shortly after stopping Accutane. It is not known if Accutane caused these problems. Some signs of depression include sad, "anxious" or empty mood, loss of pleasure or interest in social or sports activities, sleeping too much or too little, changes in weight or appetite, school or work performance going down, or trouble concentrating. Some patients taking Accutane have had thoughts of ending their own lives (suicidal thoughts). Some people have tried to end their own lives (attempted suicide) and some people have ended their own lives (committed suicide). No one knows if Accutane caused these behaviors.The thing is, lately, I've been moody. Very moody. I'd oscillate from being cheerful, wanting to be active, social, etc., to being downcast, wanting solitude, sleep, etc. And today was no exception! But worse!
The morning was fair enough. I woke up feeling somewhat replenished and ready to go. But the work day sure did an excellent job bitch-slapping, groin-kicking, head-mashing, and plain diarrhea-smearing the fragile glow of the morning. You see people, my work today involved me being in a day long meeting, listening to a consultant drone on and on, with thoughts, of jamming a pen into my ears just to have some...silence, of throwing myself out the window with the George Washington Bridge as my last view, flashing in my head every now and then. Added to the fact that, due to one of isotretinoin's other side effects, my skin was flaking off, well, Yours Truly was not a happy camper. No siree. "All work and no play makes Johnny a dull boy?" "HERE'S JOHNNY?" No, no, no. Too tame, too subdued the blood curdling madness.
Oh, and yes, I realized that God hates me. When I arrived at 42nd Street-Time Square station, the New York's finest was "investigating" something, thus shutting down the 7 line from the said station to the Grand Central station. I had to take the N/W line instead and change trains at Queensboro Plaza, which by the way is no big deal. But when I arrived at Queensboro Plaza, the platform was packed with commuters waiting for the 7 train to come. After about 5 N/W trains had come and gone, the 7 train gingerly arrived jammed pack. The commuters, resilient New Yorkers they are, with their sharp elbows, pushed and shoved their way into the train, and I was tossed about the human waves. I had no desire to be a sardine! Another set of 5 N/W trains had come and gone, then another packed 7 train arrived. Another fight to stay alive from the on-coming tidal wave of irate riders. I waited—not patiently, but nonetheless, I waited.
The commute home, which usually last less than an hour, lasted more than 2 hours! 2 hours! As an aside: I seriously need to move into the city (for the none Tri-State people, the city is Manhattan); does anyone in the Village area need a roommate?
Granted the meeting and the police investigation are beyond my control. I can usually let the annoyance roll off of me, but I swear isotretinoin is making me think that the world is against me, that it's all a set up to inconvenience my existence. Let me tell you, I truly believe even God, yes, even He is against me!
Oh, I just realized that today marks the one year anniversary of my coming out to myself and God. Hmm... Is that why God is punishing me? You see, He knew my vanity will drive me to seek out a dermatologist, who in turn would prescribe me a drug so potent, it's considered a category X (the worst) teratogen, which in turn would fuck with my head; and to test me, He'd throw the biggest, the smelliest shit of a day at me; all because I demanded that He'd bless me. Normally, I'd say, "no," but I'm inclined to believe otherwise.
But you know what? While I was waiting on the platform of the Queensboro Plaza station, up above the East River, like today was a Fourth of July, there were fireworks. I swam inside a septic tank of a day, but then there were fireworks.
Perhaps, the world isn't out to get me. Maybe God isn't cursing me. For a moment, there was a celebration of fireworks. I know it wasn't for me... But since my head's not in the right place, I'm going to say the celebration of fireworks was just for me.
Happy Realizing-Who-You-Are-And-Stop-Living-A-Life-Of-Denial Day; Happy Coming-Out Day!
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