Some of you may know that I have been taking Celexa for the past 6 months. Some of you just found out. Most of you prolly don't care. Oh well.

For those who are still with me, I stopped. OK, I ran out and decided not to get any more. I always have issues with anti-depressants/SSRI's. For one thing, I've always felt uncomfortable with the hipocrasy of saying psychotropic drugs from big pharmaceutical companies are OK to take on a daily basis, even when they cause all sorts of strange side-effects (ask me sometime), yet taking psychotropic drugs occasionally for recreational purposes isn't OK. I think it's more of a problem that I need to escape reality for 6 months at a time, than someone who just needs to escape for a couple of hours.

So I will most likely get a little wierded out over the next few days, as I go through withdrawls. Again, note the hypocritical irony that a psychotropic-medicine has withdrawls, while psychotropic-drugs rarely do.

I was singing along to "500 Miles" today, and thinking about how much my mindset when singing that song, has changed, since I first heard it so long ago. Back then, I still believed that if I loved someone enough, they'd love me back. So the song was kind of an anthem to my foolish hopefullness (or, to be more traditional, my romantic "hopeless"-ness =p), a hymn to my belief that love conqueors all. Now when I sing it, it's more with a cynical amazement, that some people are so lucky, a bitterness that I'm not one of those people, and a sinking suspicion I will never be one of those people.