*(A story I started and forgot about some time ago.)*
Haloperidol (Haldol)
2mg, twice a day, liquid
~Chapter 1~
“Wanna guess the ending, if it ever does?” Get the feeling you’ve been living the same day over and over again? Like your entire life is just the means to an end you were never even hoping for? Well that’s because it is. And I’ve been starting to get tired of it. Now that I think about it, who I am is probably a better way to start this. I was named Robin, and through either blissful ignorance or blatant antagonism by irony itself, the traits of cheerfulness, good luck, and good communication that that bird symbolizes were completely and entirely lost on me, much like the dog of child who was believed to have ran away but in reality was opened and splattered by an absent-minded driver on a road not too far away. All of which is a run-around way of saying I haven’t spoken a single word in almost a month and fuck my life. But tomorrow should be different. Do note that “different” has no intrinsic relation to “better”. This will likely be even worse than normal. Actually, that depends on if numbness is better than pain; I’ll find that out soon enough. Maybe. Maybe I still won’t feel anything at all.
However, tomorrow is tomorrow, today is today, and today the last twenty-five to thirty minutes of my life have been spent ruminating over absolutely nothing while experiencing what it’s like to not chew 5-gum. And as the arm I’ve been lying on violently reminds of its crippling blood and oxygen addiction, I roll over to greet the mechanical abomination that I know damn well is about to burn its declaration into my eyes. And god fucking damnit it’s only been seven minutes. Six forty-two in the morning. Kill me already PLEASE.
Y’know, at some point you just get tired of being alive, of trying, of feeling hated, of knowing you cannot and will not be understood. You get used to it, but it never gets any better. A lot of things don’t. They’re supposed to, but they haven’t. And they probably never will.
There’s something wrong about me -- well. I guess that isn’t specific enough. The heart line of my right palm is split into two, the bottom line curves down and never meets the top. My mother once told me that that represented a short life; I will die young. I’ve only ever seen it on one other person, an old friend of mine
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*(That's all I wrote, I don't remember the story I had in mind, other than the turning point of it being that Robin stops taking her meds and goes into psychosis. I don't remember when I wrote this, could honestly have been over a year ago, but I have no idea. Reading through it again almost makes me want to pick it up again, but I don't know. I was a funnier and much better writer then and I don't think I could do it justice now. The following is some separate dialogue I had stored in a different file, there is nothing else of this story. I never gave it a name then, so I guess I'll just call it "Robin")*
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???: "Hey can I touch your laptop?"
Robin: "Sure, but be aware if you do, the CS case opening slider will appear and you'll roll to obtain a random disease that I've had in the past 6 months, the current jackpot's pink eye.
???: "..."
Robin: "I don't think I've ever cleaned this thing."