Back in June I went to my doctor and told him I wanted to get on an antidepressant 'cause, well, drugs are fun.
"Here, have some Celexa samples," my doctor said, "if they work for you, get this prescription filled."
Honestly, I didn't think it would do much good. I mean, you're either happy or you're not, right?
That night I took my first pill. I didn't feel much different, but I realized Sonya was laughing at me.
"What?" I demanded, "what? What? What?
"You've been talking nonstop for the last twenty minutes," she told me. And she was right. I hadn't noticed it.
Later on in the night I was sitting in the living room, grinning stupidly at the TV.
"Do you feel better?" SOnya asked. "Do you feel happy?"
"Well," I said, assessing myself, "I feel like I've had two or three good strong vodka tonics without having anything to eat beforehand. I feel like I'm drunk and, yeah, that's pretty happy."
The motormouth and jaw-clenching have, thankfully, disappeared since then. The feeling of drunken well-being, though, is almost always with me. To me, that's not a bad way to feel all the time.