In the beginning is the end, the end is never over. Conditions demote, demote, demote you again, leaving you with nothing more than your human person. The bucket of bones and water you never asked to be part of, never had a say in its arrival, it persists, unremarkably.
Today I feel fine but something happened in the bathtub on Tuesday. I could not stop masturbating for over an hour, this after already unloading a healthy squirt 20 minutes earlier. My head felt full of plastic and gas, my body was leaving me behind, I kept changing positions and finding no posture that provided comfort or ease of being.
After it ended (it never really did) I stood up and discovered, by chance, that I’d forgotten to pop the daily 1mg of Lorazepam. I didn’t forget so much as neglected to notice that of the 6 pills I take all at once this time one of them did not make it into my face. It got lodged onto the surface of the lid I use as a sort of spoon. The lid is from a bottle of prescription pills but I’ve used other such objects to hold the daily potion of blood pressure and anxiety meds. Typically I am thorough about being sure all the pills were dumped from the lid into my face. I trace the surface of the inside of the lid with my thumb and then clutch the lid to my palm so that any of its possibly undelivered content will not fall onto the bathtub floor and dissolve down the drain.
I must have skipped a step this day but at least the pill did not fall onto the floor and go down the drain, leaving me none the wiser that my daily dose of pharms did not include that sometimes critical pill.
It’s not always like this. I’ve accidentally skipped the Lorazepam and felt no effect whatsoever. I don’t think this reaction was so much about having skipped that pill but more that this was a day I really needed it more than other days. The hour-long masturbation marathon would likely not have occurred had I taken the pill at the usual time.
It’s all about the human body. Diet and rest are everything and that particular day I got poor sleep and ate very little the night before, with two high-octane 12% beers and some vodka to light that fire inside my human person. I was honestly scared feeling I had no control over making myself stop doing this. The Devil in Mister Thomas?