Yellow pill, yellow pill. Every day I take you, a small encapsulation of my life in repetition. A constant reminder of the dukkha prevalent in my own soul. A yo-yo of emotions more destructive and different than the poles of Earth herself.
I am me, yet I hold to question who else am I. A chip on my shoulder, a bug on my back. Stitched to me like Peter Pan’s shadow at my feet. No-one can see it, not even I. When I stare in the mirror, my face stares back untouched unmoved.
It is like tar seeping through my lungs with every breath. It can be suffocation and liberating. The demon on the silver lining of my shredded soul. It’s teeth and claws baring and breaking the skin. Leaving my inner workings a babe crying on the floor.
This thing that follows, invisible to all. This thing that hunts me, I can feel but not see. In the dark blue shade hours of the night and the grey chromatic light of the day, I am hunted. Is it safe to call it a hunt when the prey does not need be found?
I grind my teeth, clasp my knuckles and harden my gaze. It is close, sniffing around for its next meal. My daily grind feeds into my scent, it laps up the oozing smell of my stress. And with one more breath, my stress becomes self-sustaining.
A vicious cycle. Stress created externally only to be eaten and spewed out in the moment of the feast. More! More! More, it cries as it circles me like carrion cawing for its next meal. But it does not dish the killing blow. That is to be by my hand only.
Once the feast is done. It grips me tight, its nails digging in, and whispers sweet, sweet nothings in my ear. I relax and grow into a sense of security. Falsely felt. My mood shifts from the depths of hell to the highs of heaven.
My traveler leaps like a giddy dog. Encouraging me on, my giddiness fed by the giddy dog. I leap and bound like a drunken man. My actions fluid in the sense of sobriety but my mind awash with the haze of alcohol never drank.
Fading, fading the inevitable crash. But not the screech of metal on metal, but the slow fall of an angel who has displeased the almighty good. My wings bent and bowed, I circle the air as I fall. Watching Earth nay Hell form to greet me. I can see the end.
Once again I sit in a monochrome room on a rainy day, a noir cliche. This is the greyscape of my inner-mind. It is a small bare room, with barely anything in. Just a bed, window and a door that will eventually open. But not yet.
I have fallen from the afterglow of heaven into a grey bleak room of self-loathing. This space is my own prison, a far cry from Heaven it is Hell. And my traveler, the shadow at my feet holds the key to the door, whispering despair in my ears.
The door opens. Up I jolt and leave my mind. The yellow pill here to rescue me. It stabilizes my altitude and levels the playing field. I am surrounded by a glass fence. Safe and secure. I tuck myself ready for a peaceful sleep.
But as I lie still, in my fenced off haven I suddenly watch. Like a cat it slinks about the fences, piercing me with those yellow eyes. Ready for its next move against me. I cry in terror, jumping from my bed. Its eyes laughing as the fences fall down.
What will it be? The mania of heaven or the depression down in hell? It lunges for me and I wish for the yellow pill. Crying out I hold out my hand in terror. I name you! By God I name you! My cruel shadow, my illness, I name you! But unlike true demons, you will never begone!
