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Oh dear god… Lithium.

I sighed deeply and looked at the orange pill bottle that was sitting in front of me. In my head, I could see the pharmacist's face when I handed her the prescription, the pity and the judgment.

I stared at the little pink pill that lay inside my palm—that horrible pink pill with the little brown writing. This small pill had such powerful affects. I didn't know what this was going to do to me. What if it kills me? What if it takes all my problems away? What if it doesn't do anything?

How is that this small pill, this element have such an impact?

It seemed so simple when I had to study it in science class. It is number 3 on the periodic table… I still knew this from all that time ago.

However, this wasn't science class. This wasn't high school. This was life. This was my life. My poor, sad, depressed life. I couldn't get anything together, so what does my therapist do? Prescribe me Lithium. Zoloft didn't work; neither did Prozac, nothing worked. I could've shoved all those pills down my throat and, if it wouldn't have killed me, it still wouldn't have done anything. This was the sad story that was my life.

My therapist looked at me in a trying-to-be-consoling-way. "Think of it as this," he said. "It's just a salt," he said. In my head, I heard 'It's just a salt… A salt that you must be sure to drink PLENTY of water with or you would die, but really, it's just a salt.' My cure. My magical cure. My fucking recipe for fucking happiness dwelled in this fucking small goddamn pink pill.

Pink? Why is it all pink? Was pink itself a magical cure? Maybe if I stared at the color pink for the rest of my life I would be happy. Maybe if I died my hair, eyes, my fucking skin pink, it would all be better. However, I'd have to go beyond that. My house, my walls, my car, my bed, my mirror, doors, books, CDs, lights all of it. I'd paint and dye everything pink and then everything would be okay.

Lithium. Lithium. L-I-T-H-I-U-M.

No matter how I said it, how I spelled it no matter how I looked at it, no matter how it looked in different writings, no matter how it sounded coming out of other people's mouths, it still was just a salt. It still was a small pill that I had to put inside my mouth and drink a gallon of water with, but somehow that was how I was going to get better.

Pills don't make it better. They just mask it. I can't ever be cured. I can't ever be truly fine. What I have, what I am, there is no magical cure. Sure the pills can make it seem I'm happy, they can even fool me. However, deep deep deep down, I'll always know the truth. I'll always know that I'm not cured. I am not fixed. The pills will forever only treat a symptom I have. Never me, I will never be okay.

I've pulled myself out of darker holes before, or at least, I thought I had, so why not now? Why wasn't I able to pull myself out of this one? Was this the worst of it? I knew Lithium was the bottom, but they say when you hit bottom, you have nowhere to go but up. I beg to differ. When you hit bottom, you can always dig down deeper and find a new bottom and a new one after that and a new one after that and a new one after that and a new one after that and a new one aft—

I had to stop that. I had to stop it all. I needed to just stop all this craziness; it was only making it worse. However, I suppose your therapist handing you a prescription for Lithium means you've made it pretty bad. Once you get told you need to be put on Lithium, you know you've gone too far. You are now too far delved into madness and your only hope is Lithium….

Scribbling this all down, I knocked over my bottle of magical cure and I watched as I saw the small pink dots scatter across my floor. I stared at them and realized something, in the way they fell, the seemed to shape and a heart. I stared at it and it made me angry. My eyes filled tears of hatred and I let out a blood-curdling, anger-filled, air-piercing, heart-stopping scream. I threw myself down onto the floor and shoved away the pills as fast and with as much force as I could. I screamed and cried as I rolled around on my floor, in true insane fashion, and threw handfuls of pills across my house, hoping they'd disappear forever.

I lay still on my floor and waited for the tears to dry. It seemed they slowly began to evaporate and with them, my will to continue on with this life.

I sat up and picked up the pill bottle. There were three pills left in it.

Three of them, one by one I put them in my mouth and swallowed.




I took them down and I could feel them in my stomach. Fuck water.

If there was no coming back from Lithium… then I wasn't coming back at all.
First off, this is complete fiction. Obviously, I'm not dead, I've never taken Lithium nor am I in therapy. This is just something I came up with spur-of-the-moment. Also, I felt like I wasn't writing enough lately. I don't wanna lose my touch.
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Nemononiam Featured By Owner Aug 19, 2012  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
This is amazing!
Really, fantastic job.
This is going to haunt me for a while, I can tell...
bennydecember Featured By Owner Aug 19, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you!
MadCupcake38 Featured By Owner Aug 11, 2012
Your writing is absolutely beautiful. In a creepy way but nevertheless a beautiful way ^_^
Was this inspired by Emilie Autumn perhaps? xx
jari-v Featured By Owner Jul 26, 2012
If I recall correctly, lithium is for mania/bi-polar and has long time to take effect. Only a Goth use it as a party drug... ;)
bennydecember Featured By Owner Jul 26, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
I have no experience with Lithium. I wrote this inspired by the Drug Diary in Emilie Autumn's book, 'The Asylum for wayward Victorian Girls.'
And the character in this piece didn't take any pills until the very end and overdosed so he would die, I never wrote specifics on the effects.
Also, party drug? Lithium is deadly and that's prejudice to all Gothic people and just an overall stupid thing to say. I am Goth and I've never used any drugs--especially Lithium--at all and all the Goths I know don't either.
SpunkyFreakster Featured By Owner Jul 24, 2012  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
my dad gave me a tiny tiny TINY pink pill one time when i was depressed & it made me hallucinate really bad and to this day i haven't figured out what he gave me. He wouldn't tell me either lol. But it scared me.
DiggerGoth Featured By Owner Jul 24, 2012  Student General Artist
This was so emotional! I love it! :)
Alex-Chibi Featured By Owner Jul 24, 2012  Hobbyist General Artist
So compelling, its truly beautiful! Lithium is actually one of my favorite songs, and of course an element on the periodic table(: I thought I really should read this story because it was actually the song I was listening to at the moment!!:D
MummyWriter Featured By Owner Jul 23, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
This is beautiful. I really love the whole voice behind it. It's one of those literature pieces that really exudes emotion.
bennydecember Featured By Owner Jul 23, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
:D :blush: Oh thank you! That actually means a lot seeing as how I wrote this in about 15 minutes. :)
MummyWriter Featured By Owner Jul 24, 2012  Hobbyist Writer
Wow I wish I could write as good as this in such a short time!
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Submitted on
July 23, 2012
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