Writing Prompt January 7th

You're not going to take what anymore?


I've been taking it for as long as I remember. Open up. Place the bitter pill on the tongue. Raise a glass of water and swallow it. Don't question. Don't argue. Just do what you are told. Be a good girl. 


The thing is, you can only push someone so far. There is only so much you can take before the little voice at the back of your head, the one that has been a growling accompaniment of discontent the entire time, begins to shout. 


"Hey! There's a person in here! A real, live person with things to say, with passions and obsessions, with needs and desires, with an opinion of their own!"


Every time that voice surfaced before I pushed it back. I tamped it down. I convinced it to wait. I behaved like a good girl with a litany of well rehearsed self-stalling tactics. 


"Not yet. You aren't ready. They aren't ready. They will never let you. They don't understand. You can tough it out."


I can't though. Tough it out. I am tired. Tired of not being heard. Of being cared for without being loved. Of being loved by people who don't care. 


So I'm not going to take it. They say it will make me calm. It will keep me from being hyper. It will help me deal with my anger issues. That's not true. It's only purpose is to rob me of my will, to make me pliable, biddable, docile. 


I'm not going to take it anymore. I'm not going to take those pills. Not today, not ever again!