I wake up like I always do. Like one of those gelatinous blobs from my 600lb life is sitting on my chest.

Did I tip that bartender enough at Benders in between classes? Is my car parked so that an equal amount of space is showing between the line and my tires on both sides? And more importantly are there any cigarettes in my apartment?

I step on to the carpet, and Bentley army crawls from under the bed. He’s the only person that seems to get excited when they see me anymore. I make a mental note to ask Pete if he’ll buy me another one.

Becka is asleep on the sectional and judging from the way her face is smashed into the cushions we went out last night. A sports coat and khakis are lying by the door confirming my suspicions. I grab Becka’s Newports off the coffee table and tiptoe back to my room. The lockbox on the floor of the walk-in closet is calling my name.

6mg of Xanax because the day that stretches before me seems insurmountable.

I record the number and the time in a black composition book. I’ve started monitoring my intake of narcotics, but not because I’m trying to cut back. The detailed accounting seems to calm me, even more so than the tranquilizers I just ingested.

A copy of my grandma’s death certificate is lying on the desk. I altered the date so I could drop Computer Ethics, the only class with mandatory attendance. It needs to be dropped off at the Register’s office today. I guess I should go to a couple classes too.

20mg of Adderall so I can shower and dress for the day.

I have an appointment with Dr. G to replenish my stockpile of orange bottles. I found him by searching for doctors that had their medical license’s sanctioned in Northern Virginia. Dr. G had gotten a Bipolar patient to lend him 20k.

4mg of Xanax because he makes me nervous, even though he doesn’t care.

Everyone in my classes looks like a stranger, and they all seem to be foreign. For once I feel like the minority. The material is easy, and I know I’ll just study at home.

30mg of Adderall so I can stay awake.

I have to meet a client in the evening, the one that pays me to go out to eat with him once a month. It’s the weirdest thing anyone’s ever asked me to do. I dress in business clothes left over from the honor’s program at my last university. The second car Pete bought me when I sold the first one waits outside.

4mg of Klonopin because I don’t have a license.

He tells me about his job and clearance level. I try to steer the subject towards books, but he doesn’t budge. I excuse myself to the restroom and consult the mirror.

20mg of Dexedrine because he’s putting me to sleep.

Becka’s nodding out on the couch when I get home, Revolutionary Road still running in loops on the flat screen. I fill Bentley’s bowls and record the pills I took while I was out.

Time to unwind.

4mg of Klonopin to kill the lingering amphetamines.

750ml of vodka because I’m going to bed alone.

150mg of Seroquel because I’m not sure I want to wake up.

Because all my tomorrows look the same.