Strange, the way our heads work.
Before last night, I hadn't thought that I was depressed at all. Now that I've been looking around, I am finding all sorts of pointers in that direction... and wondering why nobody told me, and wondering why I didn't figger it out faster.
Beside the point, anyway. Back, back, back... to the Prozac.
Busy night. Not running, just walking fairly fast most of the time. Nothing interesting, except for something that I was not involved with at all except for I saw the ending, which consisted of a guy being very upset with the doctor and everyone else and walking out threatening a lawsuit.
'Bye, have a good life...
How the hell do people get to be that way?
O'well, not my problem.
My problem is that I'm tired and need to go to bed, so that's what I'm a-gonna do.
Found out that he'd woken up with joint pain, and hurried right down to see the doctor, and he'd been there ten minutes and the doctor hadn't seen him and he didn't have time for this shit and we'd all better hope that he wasn't really sick.