Dear Mr. Xanax,
Thank you so much for finally making your way into my bloodstream. I never realized the depth of your powers until now.
As you know, I am a hipster and I deal with hipster racism every day which causes me a ton of stress. But I’ve always been too scared of doctors.
Needles scare me. Blood tests scare me. A doctor’s old, frigid hand checking me for a hernia scares me. But, I did it anyway. After all these years, I did it. I made the appointment and put on the gown. After the whole billy emo situation, I had to.
I sat on the sterile, paper covered table and spoke freely about my symptoms. I let it all out. The mean note, the infiltration of billy emo, finding out about Clemmy dating billy emo, the emo posters at Randall’s, the plan gone bad……. I spewed it all out to the white-coated man like I was a child crying to my mommy for sympathy.
All those weeks of my heart pounding out of my chest as I tried to figure out how to handle everything. All those sleepless nights filled with intense worry about billy emo. All those weeks of anxiety, eating me alive from the inside out. All gone now.
One little orange pill, placed correctly on the middle of my tongue, a splash of water and I tilt my head back. Calm, peace and clarity. I feel like I am floating in a dream-world of multi-colored fedoras, vintage records, G.I. Joe lunchboxes and vegan dessert delights.
You are amazing Mr. Xanax. The doctor was right, you do work quickly.
Where have you been my whole life Mr. Xanax? Clemmy, my patchouli muse, is coming over to give me a massage and I can’t freakin’ wait.