Four hours of sleep

Got into bed at eleven, woke up at 2:14am, then 3:10. At 3:37, I got up. Moved to the couch, sometimes just a different locations helps. It didn’t.

Last time I saw, 5:07. Then — BEEEEEEEP – 6:35am. Roughly four hours of sleep. Oh well, Adderall.

Two of Lamictal, two of Effexor, one of Deplin, one Propecia and one Spironolactone. Finally, Adderall.

Carefully, I break a pill in half, none to waste. Slightly bigger half goes into my mouth, the other half back in the bottle. Wouldn’t face the world without at least 15mg. Addict.

Adderall is a miracle. Three years have pasted since that first pill. My anxious, shy and self-defeating nature evaporated as my body processed the amphetamine. Suddenly confident, driven and intense — nothing could stop me.

But that was years ago. Those feeling rarely come anymore, unless I take far too much. Instead, the past year and half I’ve spiraled down. Never going to be good enough. Never. Suicide has always been such a soothing idea. Ever since the first time I planned it, third grade.

Adderall didn’t help much today. The power I used to feel on it now has a proper clinical term, “hypomanic”. Having been on Lamictal for two weeks now, I never understood how and what could change. My mood is more stable then I have ever experienced.

But Adderall is now just a medicine to aide in concentrating. It no longer makes me super human. It no longer cures every woe. It no longer can make feel like 110% on 4 hours of sleep.

My day was long and difficult. Even with Adderall.

I’ll miss the temporary fix Adderall provided. Sad? Adderall. Tired? Adderall. Stressed? Adderall. Nervous? Adderall. The Adderall short-cut is over. Bed time has been adjusted.

Now it is time for permanent solutions, I will cede anything them.



Four hours of sleep

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