After Songs For...: The Aftermath

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Laurel Regional Hospital, ER Ward
Sunday, August 18th, 2013

A day removed from my 25th birthday and the release of Songs For..., I found myself in what had become a common sight for me over the past week or so: face up in a hospital bed with a IV of Ativan and Raquel sitting next to me.

Or something like this.
"Fuck, I was just here," I thought to myself, thinking back to my "rehabilitation of my mental." But, as I said, when one "evolves"--or tries to "evolve," there will be several miscues to go along with it. The previous visit to Holy Cross, I was provided enough medication to get through three days, because I guess they figured that I could find someone to take me.


In addition to having a fucked up bruise on my arm from where they couldn't find a vein, I couldn't find someone before the meds ran out. I tried everything to prevent a panic attack. Walking, exercising, even drinking until I just passed out so I wouldn't have to deal (No, I'm not an alcoholic). But, none of it worked. And, after a brief walk along that path, I told Raquel to take me to the nearest hospital so I could get help.
Honestly, admitting you need help is harder than getting it sometimes.

A CVS/Pharmacy in Calverton/Beltsville
Sunday, August 18th, 2013

As I handed over the laundry list of prescriptions, the pharmacist looked at me, almost astounded that a guy of my condition could still function properly. I mean, I had the HTCZ, the Clonidine, the Clonazepam, the Celexa, and a couple herbal supplements for good measure. They were probably thinking "holy crap, this kid's trying to join the 27 club early." I just looked at them, somewhat drugged, and smiled.

As drugged as I was, I knew that I was on my way to truly evolving.

I had gotten my queen back, for starters.

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