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Piercing the Veil by Jesse Printer Friendly

I went to see a doctor today. I'm pretty sure I'm depressed, and that I have been for a very long time, some ways. It's just gotten so much worse, and I'm so tired of fighting with it and trying to get everything else done all the while. There's too much. It's like if everyday before you went to work you had to build your car from parts strewn all about. Maybe you'd get good at it after awhile, but it still takes it out of you. You'd get to work exhausted, more each day. Eventually, you stop caring about how each little bolt is tightened, what's in alignment. You skip breakfast and stop putting the windshield in and eat bugs on the way. You forget where you put the doors. Gasket? My metaphors go too far.

The doctor gave me Zoloft. I remember something about smiley little blobs on the commercials back when I tolerated commercials. I hope that's not what I come out of this looking like. Drop of water on a rain-x'd surface. Or a Scrubbin' Bubble.

So she tells me this stuff is what she'd reccommend and then consults a list with a bunch of crap highlighted on it. From this list she gathers that perhaps her drug of choice, what she has deduced from her years of school and observations of my troubles will be best for me, this drug may not be on the list of things I can get from Wal-Mart... Would I like something different? Y'know, I may be crazy, lady, but I'm not quite ready to let Wal-Mart's inventory dictate the quality of my health, mental or otherwise.

--

I'm back in League City, TX now. I spent all Christmas Eve and Christmas driving between Waukesha and here. A lot of people I've told that to are sorry to hear it. "Oh, Jesse. Well..." and on they go to say something, whatever, it just doesn't matter. Point is, it was as nice a drive as you could ask for, for one you'd never want to make. And it beat the alternative, which was spending Christmas alone in a place called home only to be sent on your very unmerry way as soon as the angel of the house got back from her parents' with your unopened Christmas gift for her. Having to look at that face say goodbye again. No sir, better to be homeless and celebrate a drifter's Christmas.


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