21st Century Problems: Prozac Zombie Part 1 (#21)- (Louis Toliver Jr-Swartz, LA)

“I’m feel like I’m going to die any day,” I admitted to the doctor. “It stresses me out. The only way I can survive is by busying my mind. What if someone thinks I’m gay because my ex-girlfriend realized she was man. What if I have to work five jobs in my life just to make it, not because I enjoy them. What if I fail Ben? What if I sext my mother, again, by accident? What if other kids sexted their mothers frequently? I feel like I don’t have enough time any more because I have to check Facebook like a drug addict. I don’t have enough time. I would get a gym membership, but Facebook takes up so much of my time. I go to Chili’s when I want to fit in. Lego my ego. I don’t know who I am. I feel like I’m going to die any day.”

“Calm down”, said the doctor. “Who told you that you needed Adderall? You’re suffering from anxiety and depression, not A.D.D.?

“You,” I told the doctor.

“Well he was wrong,” said the doctor. I look confused. He continued as if “You” meant third person, “I think he diagnosed you wrong. You need Prozac.” He wrote out a prescription. “Try this. Let me know if anything seems… off.”

“Depressed…off?” I looked at the prescription, “Fluoxetine?”

“That’s Prozac?” the doctor assured.

“What is this going to do to me?”

“Ease your anxiety?”

“And then what?” I asked.

“And then, you can go back and finish episode #19.”

Comments

Come Hither (Annette Redmond Walters - Lafayette, LA)

I meant it not this way but the tears just flow and my makeup smearing all the more, leaving behind that familiar filthy residue. I may have begun to drive myself away, dragging you down as well. But it's done, I've flipped the switch and now it's dark once more. How painful is the music to my ears, I can't stand to be alone in it, yet here I am again. I pray you fly back and safely and warmly to me, though I fear I've dug the grave too deeply. As the dirt shifts within my soul, I choke on those loving words I'd meant for you. All the fragments of light I see becoming smaller and I wish to be near you in your embrace that might make me feel the warmth I'm missing. And in reality, I doubt I'd breathe another breath without you. So come hither and quickly soothe my dying heart, you are the only cure I know. I cry and cry again, come hither to heal and love me. Come hither and help me dry my tears.

Let That Fucker Burn (John Chenvert - Napoleonville, LA)

Let that fucker burn. Let the fire crackle like the whips once did— like bone meeting leather, like screams swallowed by the trees. Let the white columns crumble to ash. Not as tragedy— but as truth, unearthing itself from beneath generations of silence. Nottoway is not a mansion. It’s a mausoleum. A lie carved in stone to honor the hands that held the whip, not the backs that bore it. They called it the “White Castle.” A place of beauty. A place for weddings, for photo ops, for pretending that horror can be made elegant if the curtains match the guilt. But no paint can cover what happened there. Blood doesn’t wash out with white linens. And pain doesn’t forget just because you renamed it history. I’m not Black. And I won’t pretend to carry that weight. But I also won’t ignore it. My people—the Guanches—were taken too. Our language silenced. Our land stolen. Our names nearly erased. So yes, I know colonization. Yes, I know what it means to be disappeared. But I also know this— my skin ...

Lunatic (Lily Lechler - New Orleans, LA)

“Lunacy” comes from the moon, Who cycles through brilliance and darkness Bipolarity’s patterns are not so easily assumed Opposites not so well harnessed Who cycles through brilliance and darkness? The girl who sits in bed, wrestling with Opposites. Not so well harnessed As she thought, her brain gives reason the slip The girl who sits in bed, wrestling with Her body, depressed, her thoughts manic. As she thought, her brain gave reason the slip And gives the gift of life in a dreamlike panic. Her body depressed her thoughts. Manic Lunacy comes from the moon And gives the gift of life in a dreamlike panic Bipolarity’s patterns are not so easily assumed

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