Sometimes I take my brother’s adderall. My mom isn’t observant enough to notice a few missing pills, so it’s not very risky. I only take them on nights I know I’ll need them for work. Like tonight, for instance. Weekends are generally very busy, and usually at work I dread every ice cream ticket and bitch about every car that pulls in the parking lot. And I know I shouldn’t take my brother’s medicine. It’s not mine, and I don’t need it, and he does. But when I take it, like, I literally can’t sit still. I need to be doing something productive. If I’m just standing, I feel extremely antsy, and it doesn’t take long for me to semi-subconsciously find something to do. And when this is put to use at work, I am the best worker ever. I clean every single thing. And make all the ice creams. And stock everything, and help the servers clean tables. And anything else. I really like working when I’m using adderall. I need to keep myself busy, and work is perfect for that. 

Also, I get very very talkative. Generally, if I’m in a comfortable environment (such as work), I can talk a fair amount. I tend to listen more though, because I’m not the most quick-witted person, and I often don’t have quick replies to things. I’m much better at expressing myself via writing. It gives me time to think about what I’ll say. But the adderall makes me start talking, and not stop. I can just go and go and go. And I’ll sense people getting bored with me, and I feel bad, I really do. I hate feeling like I’m bothering people. But I keep talking anyway. I’ll just move on to a different topic, one I think they’d be more interested in. Or I’ll let them escape me and find a new person to torment with my constant chatting. 

I wish I had a prescription for this stuff, I know what I’m writing right now isn’t of much literary value, but at least I’m writing. And I want to be doing more of that. I should write every day. And I don’t. And I don’t know what stops me. But it’s three in the morning and I’m somehow finding motivation to write paragraphs about absolutely nothing, and it’s because of the medicine. If I took this on a regular basis, I’d be so much more productive. I would do the things I always say I’d do. Like write more often. And go to the fucking gym. And write more in that journal we said we’d swap back and forth, which I still have to do. I’m sorry about that, by the way. I don’t even have the excuse of saying I’ve been busy. Because I haven’t. I’m online all the time. I should be doing something better with my time. 

Well, anyway. I guess I’ll stop now. I’m really only writing this because my sister went to sleep, and I have no one to talk to, so rambling on and on is the closest thing I can get to talking.