VIBIN

Dear Reader,

Two updates in two days? Pretty odd. And I’m not even writing right now just because my meds are kicking in and I need to word vomit onto a page.

In fact, I haven’t even taken the meds yet today and I kind of feel like a walking zombie because of it. Dead girl walking–out of adderall.

Not really. I have enough to last me the rest of the semester. More than enough. But every once in a while something about it freaks me out and I stop taking it for a bit.

I’ll take it later and I’m sure everything will be fine, I just need a breather.

Well, I kind of need more than that.

All I’ve wanted to do lately is listen to music. Maybe drink a little or get a little high and waste a day away. Maybe get some friends together and all share some good music and just sit in a circle, nodding our heads along to that good shit.

Or maybe do none of that.

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Sometimes I kind of just want to go home and lay in bed with my headphones and listen to all the albums I’ve been playing sporadically in the way they were intended.

I’ve been listening to a lot of rap and hip hop lately.

I mean, how can you let a year like this one go by without at least gaining a tiny appreciation for all the amazing artists in hip hop right now.

2016 has been shitty for a mile-long list of reasons, but it really has been the year of music.

It used to always just be Kanye that I would listen to because I would use hip hop to get hype. I’d find myself laughing at the lyrics as I actually listened to them, then I’d start to sing along. It’s amazing what acting like Kanye, if just for a song, can do to your self esteem.

And even though my “lets get it goin” playlist on Spotify is still one of my most played ones, I’ve started to use music to just chill.

Thus the creation of my playlist “chiller.”

Chance is classic, but Logic is new to me. Then there’s the old school Drake–you know, the Drake that’s got you remembering people you never had in the first place. There’s Kid Cudi when I want to sing and Wiz when I want to chuckle to myself. (You can’t have a “chill” playlist without the song “medicated”)

There’s a billion artists I didn’t even recognize before but now I put my headphones in and turn all the way up, pretending like they’re here next to me, performing to this audience of one.

I used to do this shit with Ed Sheeran and now it’s A$AP Rocky.

It’s funny how interests grow and change.

(I mean I still love Ed Sheeran though, let’s clear that up.)

I don’t know what the point of this is. I think it’s just because the other day I watched a Nathan Zed video and he said that YouTube really isn’t inspiring him that much anymore. In fact, a lot isn’t inspiring him at all. But he still has music.

Damn I’m thankful for music.

Every once in a while I fall into a rut where I just need some new songs to listen to or I think I’m gonna go insane. But then I fall out of it and feel renewed when I discover new artists and albums I’ve never noticed before.

Okay, yeah, so the point? Not sure. But music is damn amazing.

Now I’m gonna go and let Kendrick finish up with “Bitch don’t kill my vibe.”

Sincerely,

Sammy

THE HEAD VS. THE HEART

The head and the heart are not friends.

Maybe they will be one day, but for now they are not. Not for young women, at least.

The brain nags while the heart tempts.

It persuades.

She’s a crafty devil, the heart, and the brain is the annoyed older sister who rolls her eyes when you, the unsuspecting parent to them both, are duped once again because of ‘feelings’.

And maybe one day these sisters will be on the same page.

But you are young.

So every time a new boy or girl plays their games, and every new time you fall, the heart weeps and the brains says “I told you so.”

Then you repair.

And then it happens all over again.

Young girls must learn to listen to their heads and their hearts, as they are often at war with each other.

Mine are as well, but not in the same way.

See, my brain is a mess.

It’s been described as scattered before, which is really quite fitting, though horrendously overused.

Thoughts often lose their way in my brain because there’s not always a clear path. And when there is, my brain doesn’t always have the power to keep the thoughts, well, on track.

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This is a problem, as I’m sure one could guess. And the solution?

Drugs.

Adderall.

Half a tablet, by mouth, twice a day.

But the heart doesn’t like the medication that the head has been prescribed.

It never has.

It beats ferociously in protest, which only startles the head even more.

Am I dying? the head will think. Surely, this is the way I go.

All logic is lost when the heart loses control because the head becomes singularly focused on one thing, which maybe is the point of all of this.

Maybe it’s just the medication doing it’s job.

Except the heart hates the medication.

After all, it’s the medication’s fault this is happening.

Postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome would never be part of my vocabulary if I didn’t have to take adderall.

And I would never have to take adderall if the brain could just focus.

So the heart hates the head.

But alas! the head remarks. Heart palpitations didn’t start out of nowhere when the diagnosis came at age 15.

Remember when your dad dunked your head in ice cold water to slow the insistent beating?

Remember the episode you had during your freshman year of soccer tryouts when you were simply standing by the goalpost?

Remember pulling the hands of AJ and Abbie to your chest, long before you would grow boobs, to show them how insane your heart was acting?

Remember, remember, remember? The head cries, as it pulls the memories like weapons from the vault of repression.

And the heart grows heavy with sadness as the head makes connections.

Because see? the head states. You’d be going crazy with or without the meds.

This hurts the heart, as the truth so often does. But the heart swells with it’s rebuttal, wounded but not yet defeated.

It lets out cries of passion. It throws a fit of rage. It screams until it aches.

I am worked tirelessly, all because you, you dumb brain, can’t function properly!

It kicks and it wheezes, beating faster and faster.

It’s your drugs that send me to dangerous speeds day in and day out.

The head starts to throb, unsure of who is the logical recipient for this anger.

And one day, it’s your drugs that are going to do me in! Because a brain can function if it’s scattered, but a heart can’t pump if it’s constantly being attacked.

The head hurts, because it is hearing the words coming straight from the heart.

The head controls it all. It thinks, oftentimes too much, about what is happening in the body, and it’s aware of the possibility of irreversible damage.

The head is too sad to cry, while the heart is sobbing and shaking, unable to control it’s weeps.

But they continue to battle, because every day the brain justifies the meds and every day the heart tries to fight them off.

Young girls must learn to listen to their heads and their hearts, as they are often at war with each other.

Love vs. logic.

Hope vs. pain.

It’s the battle that’s been written about forever.

Who will win, the head or the heart?

My insides have never quite fought this battle, but their own version rages within with each passing day.

Who will win, the head or the heart?

Which outcome would be better?

Which symptoms would be worse?

ADD or POTS?

Only time will tell.