ArtsAutosBooksBusinessEducationEntertainmentFamilyFashionFoodGamesGenderHealthHolidaysHomeHubPagesPersonal FinancePetsPoliticsReligionSportsTechnologyTravel

The Girl Next Pill

Updated on March 18, 2017

By Moody

The Girl Next Pill

"Find whom you love and let them kill you, would you engrave that on my stone?" I said to her as I unclenched another beer can and tossed it into the fire. Not really a good campfire talk but I wasn't much of a happy camper anyways. One thing I loved about her was her utter confidence that I wasn't even remotely broken, she would never attempt to fix me, even in my mid-night suicide talks. She would list me all the latest revolutionary self-harm methods, she's creative that way. Dark she undoubtedly was, yet I could taste her sweetness like Hershey's finest. They gave me these pills the day I graduated from Bethlem Asylum, said they'll make everything fine and dandy. 15 years I rotted away behind them pale walls. Severe schizophrenia, a mental illness they called it, I think of it as my mind's own special way of transcending my humble every-day momentous existence. On June 23, 1950, I popped one. That's when she first knocked on my door. Three gentle taps were the birth of what soon became the most surreal relationship of my life. I slowly opened, and there she stood. A finely sculpted nymph, caramel coated with hazel eyes, exotic pitch-black silk for hair, every strand wildly dangling before the other. I was standing before symmetrical perfection, yet every thing about her said chaos. She told me where she lived, "in the pill" she said. I didn't mind. Those pills, a cure for the love-lorn is what they are. I was highly vulnerable by then, 15 years in the sanitarium left me with an extreme thirst for companionship. An hour after our first encounter, I was madly, deeply in love. In fact I'm surprised it took me so long. I recognized her voice right away, that harmonic voice that sent me to Bethlem, the one inhabiting my head. She said one thing, I said another, next thing I knew I was truly lost in those hazel stars. She would flash me with that gleam in her eyes, and I was a goner. We used to curl up on the Brompton cemetery grass, make up all kinds of twisted stories about each and every soul lurking upon her tombstone. It was highly sadistic. I loved it. She always made sure every soul in her story had a faint hint of good inside, just enough to make them human, I guess she didn't go full-cynical as I did, not yet at least. The sex was bizarrely erotic. I could sense every breath, every tip of her hair gently brushing against my face, yet I couldn't feel them, I couldn't feel her. I engaged in physical intimacy with a hologram, a mirage. She would reflect my every move, I thrust right, she thrust left, I pulled she pushed, it was like a sensual dance with my alter-ego. I was instructed to take a pill a week. I gulped down the whole container in one week. Each day more pernicious than the next, on the seventh day I was fatally strung out. I was dying. She stood up, and wickedly danced around the campfire, "I could engrave it, but what if your spirit had a change of heart and haunted me from beyond your grave." I laughed, she kept on dancing, and slowly I fainted away as I watched the flames sway along with the girl next pill.


    0 of 8192 characters used
    Post Comment

    No comments yet.


    This website uses cookies

    As a user in the EEA, your approval is needed on a few things. To provide a better website experience, uses cookies (and other similar technologies) and may collect, process, and share personal data. Please choose which areas of our service you consent to our doing so.

    For more information on managing or withdrawing consents and how we handle data, visit our Privacy Policy at:

    Show Details
    HubPages Device IDThis is used to identify particular browsers or devices when the access the service, and is used for security reasons.
    LoginThis is necessary to sign in to the HubPages Service.
    Google RecaptchaThis is used to prevent bots and spam. (Privacy Policy)
    AkismetThis is used to detect comment spam. (Privacy Policy)
    HubPages Google AnalyticsThis is used to provide data on traffic to our website, all personally identifyable data is anonymized. (Privacy Policy)
    HubPages Traffic PixelThis is used to collect data on traffic to articles and other pages on our site. Unless you are signed in to a HubPages account, all personally identifiable information is anonymized.
    Amazon Web ServicesThis is a cloud services platform that we used to host our service. (Privacy Policy)
    CloudflareThis is a cloud CDN service that we use to efficiently deliver files required for our service to operate such as javascript, cascading style sheets, images, and videos. (Privacy Policy)
    Google Hosted LibrariesJavascript software libraries such as jQuery are loaded at endpoints on the or domains, for performance and efficiency reasons. (Privacy Policy)
    Google Custom SearchThis is feature allows you to search the site. (Privacy Policy)
    Google MapsSome articles have Google Maps embedded in them. (Privacy Policy)
    Google ChartsThis is used to display charts and graphs on articles and the author center. (Privacy Policy)
    Google AdSense Host APIThis service allows you to sign up for or associate a Google AdSense account with HubPages, so that you can earn money from ads on your articles. No data is shared unless you engage with this feature. (Privacy Policy)
    Google YouTubeSome articles have YouTube videos embedded in them. (Privacy Policy)
    VimeoSome articles have Vimeo videos embedded in them. (Privacy Policy)
    PaypalThis is used for a registered author who enrolls in the HubPages Earnings program and requests to be paid via PayPal. No data is shared with Paypal unless you engage with this feature. (Privacy Policy)
    Facebook LoginYou can use this to streamline signing up for, or signing in to your Hubpages account. No data is shared with Facebook unless you engage with this feature. (Privacy Policy)
    MavenThis supports the Maven widget and search functionality. (Privacy Policy)
    Google AdSenseThis is an ad network. (Privacy Policy)
    Google DoubleClickGoogle provides ad serving technology and runs an ad network. (Privacy Policy)
    Index ExchangeThis is an ad network. (Privacy Policy)
    SovrnThis is an ad network. (Privacy Policy)
    Facebook AdsThis is an ad network. (Privacy Policy)
    Amazon Unified Ad MarketplaceThis is an ad network. (Privacy Policy)
    AppNexusThis is an ad network. (Privacy Policy)
    OpenxThis is an ad network. (Privacy Policy)
    Rubicon ProjectThis is an ad network. (Privacy Policy)
    TripleLiftThis is an ad network. (Privacy Policy)
    Say MediaWe partner with Say Media to deliver ad campaigns on our sites. (Privacy Policy)
    Remarketing PixelsWe may use remarketing pixels from advertising networks such as Google AdWords, Bing Ads, and Facebook in order to advertise the HubPages Service to people that have visited our sites.
    Conversion Tracking PixelsWe may use conversion tracking pixels from advertising networks such as Google AdWords, Bing Ads, and Facebook in order to identify when an advertisement has successfully resulted in the desired action, such as signing up for the HubPages Service or publishing an article on the HubPages Service.
    Author Google AnalyticsThis is used to provide traffic data and reports to the authors of articles on the HubPages Service. (Privacy Policy)
    ComscoreComScore is a media measurement and analytics company providing marketing data and analytics to enterprises, media and advertising agencies, and publishers. Non-consent will result in ComScore only processing obfuscated personal data. (Privacy Policy)
    Amazon Tracking PixelSome articles display amazon products as part of the Amazon Affiliate program, this pixel provides traffic statistics for those products (Privacy Policy)