You can never really get away from your own head. You always carry it with you and you can never forget about it.
Some people turn to chemicals to change their heads or help them forget, but the chemicals always wear off. And you are left with your head. To some the answer is more drugs. When your head returns you chase it away again, but it keeps returning each time more terrible than the last it keeps returning and you can't stand it. You empty the bottle.
Your head is still there. Waiting for you. You pour pound after pound of whatever seem to work into it but in the morning it is still there. Laughing at you, prodding you, hurting you. So you empty another bottle, a larger one or a different kind. It doesn't matter they all end up feeling the same. Unless you don't manage to down the whole thing. No then it is worse than anything before, because they take them away. They take them all away. There is no bottle to help you through another day. And It hurts. It hurts so bad that you wish you had never been. You want it to end but they won't let you. You are left alone in your head and they won't let you out.
They stand around outside your head and you look at them, and you ask, "Where is their bottle?" "Why don't they feel the things I feel?" "Do they really exist?"
For some (many) their bottle is just the same as your's Just better hidden. Beneath the desk, in the bookshelf, buried within social custom. But they are on the bottle just the same. You laugh at them, but in understanding irony.
Others have a different kind of bottle. They get it in doses, once a week. It doesn't hide your mind it replaces it. Why think when someone else will do it for you?
There are others with bottles so wild and mysterious I could never imagine them. But someone invents a new one every day.
Then there are those who don't need the bottle. Not those who hide theirs and claim none. But truly those who do not need to hide from their own brains. I envy them some times, though I've never met a one with a mind to hide from. Maybe that is the secret. If you have no mind you don't have to care.
If you have a bottle you don't have to care because you can't see it, and someone else, even if they can't see it either, is taking care of it for you.
I cannot seem to be rid of my mind the bottles don't quite work, and they always wear off in the morning. I'm too stubborn to End It, so I spend my life running. Running and looking for a bottle, a new kind of bottle, one that doesn't wear off or which kills me when I least expect it.
I think my bottle might be women, or at least one woman, some where. I am an addict no doubt. but how does one use something without using it up. How do you give as much as you receive and still come up with something. Maybe a brain isn't so bad if you don't have to take it alone.
There was something else, I'm sure there was, luckily my other bottle works as best I get. The pen lets my mind rest on paper instead of itself.
The above text has been typed in as written, including errors due to being written by a much younger me in ink sitting in a gutter late at night.