Some days, I feel I’m barely tethered to sanity, as if the connection were made with the finest cotton likely to fray and unravel at any moment. I see things out of the corner of my eye that aren’t really there. Shadows that leap in front of me, causing me to blanch with shock. I question everything I hear, hoping that tiny high pitched noise is something other people can hear it too. The myoclonic jerks that erupt from my core and tremor from my arms, pull and tug at my body like a sad, drunken marionette. I’m literally twelve tablets away from irrationality at any given moment. 24 tablets, and 2 nights away from complete breakdown. An ominous yet decidedly cut and dry affair. Medicate or perish. These are the choices I’m given, though they’re less choices and more ultimatums. Be consumed by compulsions, leap off the ledge of reality into a psychotic break or be crushed under the burdensome weight of a depressive episode. Unlike the missed contraceptive pill, there is no back up protection if I fail to remember to take it. It is simply a slip down the ladder that bridges the real world with darkness, edging closer to the abyss. And even when I am compliant with my medication, I’m inexplicably drawn to that void. To that somber chasm that promises eternal nothingness. It is always there, in the back of my mind, calling my name. Sometimes more loudly than others. I do what I can to drone it out, yet even only as a faint echo, it lures me close to the precipice where I sit a while, fantasizing about it’s cold embrace. The tether is stretched to it’s flimsy limits on these frequent occasions. One day, I imagine it will give as I peer over the edge, beginning what will either be a descent into madness or numbness. Which, time will only tell.