My heart has been pounding for the past hour. I feel like my body is displaced, floating in and around objects. I'm a little dizzy, but not too bad. Mostly I've been staring into a dark window into a hall for the past fifteen minutes, seeing if the void really stares back. I keep thinking about the exchange I had with Sam earlier, about my state of mind. Of course psychology and psychiatry is rife with inadequacies and inaccuracies. I don't even know that I need SSRIs, but at this point I'm willing to try them if it will help my daily attitude and motivation. I was sick and tired of being sick and tired already, but now that I know its something that can be altered, I plan on doing what I can to obliterate this sense of despair, and I'm reaching for the tools available to me. I don't pretend that a pill is going to fix my problems. What I am hoping it will do is eventually get me to a consistent state of motivation so that its easier to work through the many personal issues I'm now confronting in the open. I wish that I could say I know what's best for me. I don't. But I need to at least try to look out for my own interests in the way I see fit, even if it goes against trusted advice. I feel just a little in over my head with this medication, but I also feel my stress catching up with me in a way that causes a very dark sensation to creep into my chest and steal my breath. I'd rather deal with the former at this rate.

I can't help but notice I feel the need to write often after talking with Sam. What can I say? The bastard stimulates my brain.

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