The Pill & The Chinese Jar...

“Words move, music moves

Only in time; but that which is only living

Can only die. Words, after speech, reach

Into the silence. Only by the form, the pattern,

Can words or music reach

The stillness, as a Chinese jar still

Moves perpetually in its stillness.”

~ T.S. Eliot

I took the pill today. The one I have not ingested for over a week now. The one that is suppose to make me better, okay, able to cope with my experiences day and night.

In the intervening week of abstinence from my friend Citalopram I have been dizzy, felt vertigo, my mind cloudy, lack of motivation, tasted despair, wept and wept, could barely get out of my bed each day.

When I woke up each morning I was as tired as when I fell asleep the night before.

I could feel again though, no longer numb to life. Really felt in way I do not feel while my friend swims in my blood stream, doing whatever it is she does to my neurotransmitters, altering of my biology so to inebriate my senses. I function but I do not feel, I cannot cry while she controls me.

So, I thought I would live without her for awhile, a jilted lover betrayed by her blinding of me to experience, a mist thick over my emotions, a flattening of my being.

It was as if the lid was removed from the Chinese Jar of my hermetically sealed existence, and I could breathe again, feel again, weep again, and laugh again…

Today though the top was placed back on the jar and I am again sealing myself inside where I move in stillness, apathetically apophatic. While she dances in my mind unleashing her mysterious breath that freezes and hinders my thoughts and feelings.