They Don't Really Care

I can relate to beggars sleeping on sidewalks already defeated by the day early in the morning when they should be "up" and "active"; you walk past them in the afternoon and they're still there. I myself remember a couple years when I could only find peace of mind at night, and my only hope of getting out of that situation was searching, so I stayed up all night writing. I went to bed at 6:00 to wake up at 14:00, sometimes 16:00, feeling so tired as if I had slept only 10 minutes and needed 10 hours more of rest. I knew there was some chemical chaos of depression going on in my brain, however I refused to try and solve it by taking medicine. It might sound crazy, but to me it'd be like choosing the easy way out, and I thought it would make me feel like a loser, a junkie wanting to feel "good".

I only surrendered many years later when my dog died and I believe that triggered a crisis in a few months that was rather painful. She also offered me balance. I guess she knew about The Karate Kid but she knew nothing about Ali, because she wanted to give me a long-acting injectable drug that I knew not what my reaction would be and could have even killed me, when she was aware that the previous one she prescribed me, just one pill had made my vision darken, lose all my strength and fall on the ground, staying there for many minutes unable to get up. I tried to start a conversation with her about movie scripts, to help develop her power of interpretation; she didn't get what I was trying to do.

You know, girls and doctors who want to be superior are hard to find.

Being short of Her doesn't upset them much.