Pretty little pill
Dear my pretty purple pill. Thank you for always being there and keeping me stable. It's so comforting to know you're always there on my side and fighting the mood swings with me. It's also fantastic that since we started hanging out together, those silly fits don't want to be friends with me anymore. That's just an added bonus.
And then there is the little white wonders. Wow, how you have changed my life. You guys are like my own personal masseuse, on call, 24 hours a day. You allow me a little luxury that the rest of the world take for granted, even if it is just for a few minutes till the pain over powers you again and you send me into an wanted coma. But I love you for trying.
Then there's you, my multicoloured friend. We've been together so long, I've almost forgotten all the wonderful things you do for me, but then I guess that's the sign of a true friendship; one so well oiled, you barely even notice the work that you do for each other. You've brought me back from some really dark places. Before the others got here, you were coping all on your own, and you did so well. So many times I told you that I didn't want to go on, but you never allowed me to admit defeat. I owe you for that.
Don't worry my naughty little green and yellow wonder, I've not forgotten you. We don't see each other as much these days, and I guess that's because sometimes you grow apart. It's not that I like you any less, it's just simply that I have new friends now, better friends, and stronger friends. Sometimes though I do appreciate your company when the pain isn't all that bad.
And then there's my secret weapon, even if sometimes you're a little too big to handle. You stop the evil little bacteria from overrunning my body and taking over. In a way, your like a red and yellow Superman, protecting my world from the bad guys. It's a shame I have to rely on you so much though, because you make me so nauseous in such high doses.
Talking of superheroes, there's also my bright yellow safety pill. He helps to line my stomach before all the other party goers turn up and start making a mess. He's a bit of an unsung hero, and I guess that's sometimes why I forget to invite you along to my breakfast meetings. I'm sorry.
And then there's the bloke I call when I want the party to stop. The big bad white bouncer. He's strong and rather controlling but sometimes I need that. He helps to lull me away into a land of nod so I'm not as washed out the next day, although I have to admit - sometimes he does too good a job, and I overshoot my alarm by a few hours, or sometimes days.
And then I guess I should mention my occasional guest stars. We've got the calming family who I call on when the stress just gets too much. We've got the atom bomb strength pain busters who knock me into next week, and finally we've got slightly useless, but so old you have to keep around, light duty headache killers.
Together we've had quite a few years, and dare I say we've got a few more left to come. We've lost some good friends along the way, some regular cast members who had to leave to 'creative differences' with myself, I'm looking at you weight gain, and others who just weren't up to the job. But each of the pretty little pills I throw down my gullet are my friends. Because if they weren't, I wouldn't put up with all the extra aggravation they give me.