Category: Provigil

Last Tuesday at 06:15, my neighbour Sam texted: “Coffee’s stopped working–got anything stronger?” He’d just landed a new shift coding for a fintech in Leeds and couldn’t keep his eyes open past 4 a.m. I pointed him to the same small pharmacy just outside Manchester I’ve used since 2019. He placed the order before breakfast; […]

I still keep the empty blister pack in my desk drawer–like a tiny plastic trophy from the winter I pulled double shifts at the hospital and still made it to my daughter’s Saturday basketball games. One half of a 200 mg Provigil tab at 5 a.m., cold coffee, and the drive felt almost normal. That’s […]

Last Tuesday my neighbor Dave–48, two kids, never misses a Little-League game–texted me at 6 a.m. from the office parking lot. He wasn’t bragging about beating traffic; he was sitting in his Honda, engine off, forehead on the steering wheel, unable to remember why he’d driven in. Brain fog had eaten his morning. Two days […]

Last April my editor called at 2 a.m. demanding a 5 000-word brief by sunrise. Coffee had stopped working somewhere around midnight and my eyelids felt like garage doors rusted shut. A friend in Phoenix texted back: “Order Provigil, it lands in 48 h, no Rx drama.” I clicked, paid $149 for thirty 200 mg […]

Last winter my alarm rang at 4:30 a.m. and I was already on the Tijuana trolley with a backpack, a passport, and a note from my doctor that said “modafinil 200 mg, patient travels.” By 8:00 a.m. I walked out of Farmacia del Sol on Avenida Revolución holding a sealed box of Modiodal–the Mexican brand […]

I was standing in the pharmacy aisle of a Farmacias del Ahorro in Playa del Carmen, sweat sticking my shirt to my back, when the clerk shrugged and slid a foil-backed strip of Modiodal across the counter. Same molecule as Provigil, half the price I used to pay back in California. No questions, no triplicate […]

Last Tuesday my neighbor Dan waved me over to the fence, phone in hand, face flushed. “I just paid two-twenty for thirty pills that taste like chalk,” he hissed. “The tracking number died after ‘Singapore customs.’” Same story every month: Reddit link, flashy landing page, money gone. I told him what the sleep-clinic nurse told […]