a tribute to the delictable pink pills which currently reside in my purse

Dear Pink Pills,

It's been a long time hasn't it? Almost a whole year since we last crossed paths. I take partial responsibility for this, dearest Pink Pills, because I felt I didn't need you (and in truth I really didn't) and also because I don't live 15 minutes from Tijuana anymore and couldn't get my hands on you without a prescription. As much as I love you, my pride forbade me from providing sexual favors for doctors specifically to procure myself (unnecessary) medication.

But this week I found myself needing you, desiring you, begging to have you back in my life (literally, I actually begged someone. Like, down on my knees,begged them). And you came through for me, Pink Pills. You made my life better - a place of happiness and light in those hours I couldn't rely on my main man, Jack Daniels, to take the pain away. (Fabulous as he is, he isn't always appropriate company. Remember the mess he made the last time I enjoyed his company on the train? Not. Good.)

You've helped me through some tough times before, Pink Pills. Like the time we first met after I had been so roughly assaulted by a baseball bat (though others may not agree, I maintain that merely taking part in the game of baseball counts as a form of assault), or our encounter when you so kindly helped me recover from a ballet (pulled groin) related injury. But the time that I knew you were really for me, Pink Pills, when I knew that you were more than just a fairweather friend was when you helped me through the pain when I fractured my wrist trying to save my bottle of Patron. I thought I was going to die from the pain and you saved me. You even made my week one day shorter by allowing me to slip into a mild coma for 36 hours.

And now, although I'm not asking you to help me climb mountains, you have gotten me through the last eight hours. So I thank you for that, please don't think badly of me this evening when I abandon you again and run to the loving arms of Mr. Daniels. You know I love you - he's just more fun in social situations.

Thanks again, Pink Pills; for some you may just be an aid to combat pain, but for me you are 400 milligrams of candy coated happiness.

Eternally yours,

Rebecca