Paxilized

Like swimming against a rip-tide, it's been three months since I started the detox.

I was seeing the waves from underneath. Lungs filling with water. So tired, ready for an underwater nap. Snug in the tightest mermaid song, when Paxil helicoptered in, pried the mermaid off- its angry tail flicking, and winched me into the air.

One, two white pills every morning, and in return, ease. Release.

I was afraid I might never be me again. Might not want to be me again. But time is a good doctor. The fluttering badness, anxiety to the fingertips, has been cut out. Thrown out. Burnt like old love-letters.

I never thought I'd write it, or think it, but read this: There are things that are better than heroin. Much better.