Doctors are the lawyers of my head. My psychiatrist is aguing against my case. Everytime I struggle more, she extends the sentence. I’m pleading with her. Trying to prove to her I’m not guilty. But in a system designed where when you reach out for help you feel more helpelesss. You are guilty.
It’s your drug use. It’s your weight. It’s your hormones. In a system designed where when you share your problems you become them. It was never that great. Doctors would rather be right than keep you alive. Why else? Captialism is how they thrive. Prescribing medications to stop the side effect of your medications but these ones have something new. In a system designed where when you reach out for help you feel more helpelesss. You are guilty.
I am at the point where life feels like a death sentence. Either ride through these moods or be a hungry pill-popping zombie. I’m either fat or crazy. And being fat I feel crazy. That’s when I start to wonder if I’m the problem. Maybe the whole world is right. In a system designed where when you reach out for help you feel more helpelesss. I am guilty.
Bella Melardi is an Ontario College of Art & Design University student. She is twenty years old. She loves writing poetry about human rights and emotions. She has been published in a few places, including her personal essay in The Globe and Mail. She also enjoys art and music.
