Pills and iced coffee

Addiction will end you; Whether it’s taking pills to numb your ache, or the three cups of coffee you chugged down.

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“How are you feeling today?”

Do I lie or tell the truth?

I pondered a bit too long because my therapist proceeds to ask me another question… ”Are you using again?”

Shit.

Could they really tell? Did I apply my concealer today? Are my cheeks swallowed in more than usual? Or is it my breath? Can they smell it through my breath?

“No judgement, you are here for a reason… now….-”

Her words eventually faded into my memory. Is this what they say about “One ear out the other”? My addiction is no secret. When the afternoon glare hits the corner in my room just perfectly, it whispers to me in rustles of the aluminum, covering the small oval pill. It’s instructions perfectly engraved in my head “Take half a pill during the night when you are about to sleep”. It’s an antipsychotic after all, drowsiness is one of its side effects. But in my lonesome state, I am weak. I take more than needed.

In minutes, I am filled with clarity. In the hinterland of my mind. A bad habit I slowly developed. I know that one day this addiction will kill me. But death doesn’t sound scary anymore.

Death shouldn’t scare me, for I have waved death hello. When death came that close, survival became a mundane concept to me. Why sacrifice such intimacy I had with death? When I have danced on a tightrope of life and death once or twice before.

Death doesn’t scare me. Death became a if or if not situation.

If I die or if not…

The option of death sounded like a Mitski song — her poetry speaks fluently of dread and despair, as if cutting boards were her paper and knives were her pen — every line cuts, revealing thoughts that could kill.

But also, Like a Mitski song, you can’t stop but fall back into her discography. Lines that translates a zephyr of your own emotions — something relatable. Something raw. Something true.

Is it the pills I’m addicted to or the thought of death as the outcome?

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Therapy helped me overcome my addiction. 50 days sober? more or less. But addiction isn’t linear. I have been once warned. Lately I find myself ordering more iced coffee than usual.

“One venti Iced cold brew with-”

“-With 2 pumps of white chocolate sauce and a packet of splenda, gotcha!”

“Oh-”

“Sorry, I figured that you’d order this again since it’s your third time coming here today.”

Coffee is less deadly than those pills right?