Who killed my muse

Lexapro killed my muse. And sapped my creative juices together with my emotions. You ate your siblings? Ok. You have sex with ants? Ok. Yup, nothing bothers me, nothing excites me. Like, right now there's some fire in the building across from me and there's about 4 paramedics/firemen rushing in and out. They used to melt my butter--- you know, fire and hardy sturdy firemen? Now, I look at them like they're sausages in fire retardant casings.

You see, 4 months ago I finally had to make a choice: take anti-depressants to keep the lid down on my anxiety attacks but in the process loose the force that makes me excited and exciting, (wishing anyway) OR not take the meds and.....

Well, the doc convinced me to take the first option--"just to help you sail through life with less storm winds". And now am like a drone---and am bored. And boring.

While I wait for my muse to come home (if ever) let's just look at some flowers..

I know, I know. I promised no more cat pictures