An Open Letter

You scared me at first, I’d experienced strength near your kind only once before, and really, that isn’t worth a mention as you dwarfed it so. I had no control in those early days, you operated how you pleased whether I liked it or not – I did not. Then you grew on me - quite literally – doubling, doubling again, and again, and again, until you reached ten times what I knew of you in those first days. Despite your new strength you didn’t scare me anymore, I’d grown with you. We were good companions; you’d helped others through rough patches and were just what I needed to get through mine, I don’t know if you got anything out of our time together – I suppose you were able to enjoy your power, that you loved seeing what you could do to me, and then there’s the money, it’s only due to a sneaky not quite true diagnosis that I was able to afford you, the poor Australian tax payer picking up the other $95 – was it fortnightly or monthly? I can’t remember. Bitch! You forced me to sleep and made me eat more than logic should allow; because of you I now have stretch marks where there had never been any and I have a new wardrobe full of size “I’m not telling”. There’s no denying the help you gave me, the many hours of rest I wouldn’t have had without you lulling me to sleep, the relative calm that pursued me throughout the day and the knowledge that if things became too much for me I had you there in your full strength, ready to take me away. It wasn’t my idea to send you away, I hated my extra kilos - and true they fell off me once you’d gone - but your replacement was inadequate, then it gave me a hideous rash. There was no turning back, the decision had been made that we needed to part ways and that’s what was going to happen. I knew I’d miss you so I kept as much of you as I could hoarded in my room; it was inevitable that I’d come back, begging for your might to take me away, and you did, for 20 hours. All that I’d secretly stored is gone, they became stricter in rationing my access to you, and now give me the smallest amount available, soon that will be brutally cut into quarters and reduced one quarter at a time, a few weeks at a time. I don’t sleep anymore, nothing measures up to the power you had over me, there is no lingering calm to help me through the day, but I can see my collar bones again! AstraZeneca, thank you for the time I’ve had with Seroquel; can you please give me some more?