After I have been well for several years, I am so optimistic that I won't ever get sick again.
Then I start writing posts like Put Me On The Crazy List, saying I should never be able to purchase a gun. I tell my friend that he should never give me the guns he keeps safe for me.
I look at the pills I have hoarded, and I think, "I'll never want to use these! And just to be safe, I'll get rid of them." So down the toilet they go. (Yes, I do know that's not the proper way to dispose of them, but it's best to just do it while I'm in the mood to flush them.)
Ah, but then I get sick again.
I yearn for a gun; it would be so quick that way. But I don't even have the energy to go buy one. And my friend certainly won't give me one. I don't want to talk to anyone anyway, so I wouldn't even call him.
And I yearn for multiple bottles of pills. To just go to sleep forever. Why was I so certain I'd never want them? And my doctor sure as hell won't prescribe a bunch of them for me now.
Alanis says it perfectly:
Well life has a funny way of sneaking up on you
When you think everything’s okay and everything’s going right
And life has a funny way of helping you out when
You think everything’s gone wrong and everything blows up
In your face
Yes, Alanis, it is ironic.
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