I was fascinated when I read 1984 as a young man. However, I was naïve, idealistic and optimistic enough then not to believe it would come to pass.

It took a few years more than Orwell predicted, but now these drugs are here – everywhere. They “CHANGE” your feelings in a subtle and insidious way. And, it seems to me, they make everyone more and more, “the same”.

I think in extreme cases of depression it may increase the quality of life for the user. I think that’s good. Depression is a terrible thing, which I know all too well.

I feel somewhat qualified to comment like this because I TAKE 150 MG PER DAY MYSELF! Here are my observations as a test case;

I DID NOT wake one day to find my depression gone. What happened is this; One day, about 10 days after starting the drug regimen, I woke to find the depression, still very much with me, was “compartmentalized” within the confines of my brain. It was as though I had stepped away from my mental pain, and could shut it up in a filing cabinet. I felt I could ignore it. I was able to close the cabinet which contained the depression, and go about my day to day mundanities.

However, There are three NEW frightening things for me, that did not exist before I began taking the drug;

NUMBER ONE is that this seemed to further confirm the non-existence of God. That a chemical could be introduced into me, and change me SO much, seems to provide evidence that I am not more than the sum total of my chemical components. In other words, I am accidental. I am who I am because of the hap-hazard distribution of the chemical makeup that “makes up” my body, including my mind. All life then can be controlled by the scientific manipulation of the chemicals and other components that are what we are, which according to science, is EVERYTHING WE ARE.

The soul does not exist for science. It can not be located.

So, does this mean WE are God? That we, through science have, or will have, TOTAL control over our everythingness? That’s like putting the inmates in charge of the asylum, huh? Since I am terrified of death, I have trepidations over these thoughts.

It’s a little depressing to think that there is no reason for my existence, and no reason for me to strive to accomplish anything. After all, it’s all for naught. Life is some sort of mistake?

NUMBER TWO; So, what scares me more than my own robotisum? The thought of “running out” of the drug! It’s just like I was strung out on Heroin again, only this time it’s some psycho-active mind bending shit that will make me go stark RAVING INSANE if I suddenly stop. Maybe hurt someone or go into convulsions and choke on my own tongue or vomit and DIE A HORRIBLE DEATH! Well, at least it’s legal!

I’ve already felt what happened when I missed a few doses. I began to become disoriented. I was paranoid and upset. It felt like bee’s where buzzing in my head and through the nerves of my arms and legs. I was angry and hostile. I had hot and cold sweats, no apatite, trembling hands and nausea. If I’m unexpectedly cut off from these drugs , like during an unplanned emergency, (New Orleans), will I go mad? Will I die? Will I harm others?

THIRD REASON; My worst fear is this; I fear that I am becoming more and more like the doughy little blobs they use to advertise the drug on TV and in magazines. (THEY ARE SO FUCKING REPELLENT TO ME!!!)This painting, (“THE CURE”, SUBMITTED TO DA ON 09-06-2005) is a self-portrait cartoon of me being happily thoughtless under the influence. I’m just one of “THE CROWD”, of doughy white blobs, accepted and liked. However, my round shape also ominously resembles one of BORIS BADINOFF’S bombs, (From ROCKY & BULLWINKLE), which MIGHT go off in a crowd if the fuse burns down.

My advice; Think before you join this club. Think hard and long. Perhaps I’ll see you in Stupidville?