Slave to pills

I am a slave to my pills. They control my time, where I can go and how I feel. There are different sized orange bottles on the kitchen counter, in the medicine cabinet, on my desk and in my coat pockets. There is no room for spotaneity in my life. I can't go some place and decide to sleep over. I have to plan. I have to put whatever pills I'll need in a baggie to take with me. There's pills to keep me from crying, pills to keep me from getting anxious, pills to keep me from raging, pills to sleep, pills for allergies, pills to keep me from puking, pills for headaches and pills for my lungs. Nice, huh? Some nights, I just want to go to bed. I don't always feel like going down stairs to get my pills and water. I can't remember what it's like to just go to sleep. I've been a slave to these G-d damn pills for eight years.

Best Wishes,
Jen