I shall not love, yet I’ll still sing about it

Dear Liar,
     Modern medicine has provided us with a wonderful gift…another way to hurt ourselves while pretending it’s in our best interest.  I’ve always known you to be the kind of person who would choke down a pill at the slightest hint of pain anywhere on your person, as long as somewhere it says it will dull the pain.  Fair enough, do what the doctor says, he knows best(how to fill his pockets).  But even though I don’t agree, I won’t begrudge you headache relief, or whatever hypocondriatic symptoms are ailing you.
     I’m not saying you’re weak.  You can’t handle anything, but I’m not saying you’re weak.  Not out load.
     What are these new pills you’re on?  Anti-depresants?  Uppers?  Downers?  You sure as hell don’t know, but every time you feel that pang of loss in your gut-down the hatch…a few moments of emotionless bliss follow, and then what?  Does you’re little cure-all work?  Good.  Just don’t feel anything…that would make you too…human.  To honest.  Can’t you even bear he truth that your body is trying to show you? 
     And that’s why you try to keep me close.  I’m just another type of comfort pill.  Pop one of these when you start to feel low, it’s inexpensive, will laugh at your jokes, complement your wit, and tell you it loves you with complete honesty.  Feed from it…take it into you and make it promises that you never have to keep.  After all it’s just a pill.  When you feel strong again, you’ll leave this one too…or maybe you’ll never be strong because you’ll never let yourself be strong.  Fine…but this pill won’t last forever, and it won’t wait forever too.
     You can’t play games with a pill, it doesn’t know the rules, and even if it did, this pill is tired of that game.  This pill is ready to dissolve and remake itself into something more…substantial….something whole.  And this pill knows about the lies.

~The Ashley Pill (take one of these…but there’s no one to call in the morning)