In the Future

“In the future,” she hissed, picking up her orange juice and swallowing down her morning medication, “I won’t need to take these pills.” 

She picked up the intra-USB from where she had flung it onto the kitchen table the night before and plugged it into her wrist. She watched as it tapped into her heart rate, her body temperature, and her brainwaves, displaying them all on her phone screen. She did box breathing and meditated until the intra-USB beeped softly, indicating that her stress levels had calmed and that she was no longer in danger of an Anxiety Episode.

Then she went to work.

“In the future,” she sighed, swallowing her afternoon medication dry while she rode on the Z-Line between her work and her therapist’s office, “I won’t need to take these pills.” 

She scratched at the spot above her left elbow where the therapist would place the psilocybin patch, and mentally steadied herself for the Trip to come – where the therapist would help her locate her traumas, stand by her as she re-lived them under sedation, and gently counsel her through them, one by one.

She wondered, if this week’s Trip wasn’t too intense, if she’d have the

energy to stop by the supermarket on the way home.

“In the future,” she whispered, pouring a large glass of chocolate milk to take with her bedtime medication, “I won’t need to take these pills.”

Then she picked up her tablet and flicked back to the listicle advising of all the new treatment options coming out soon. There was targeted light therapy, mineral restoration, and even a very updated take on what was essentially a lobotomy. All promised to be the one – to be the thing that would finally cure her.

“In the future,” she prayed, “I won’t need to take these pills.”