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4:56 p.m. - 2004-11-29
Lunatics run the asylum. Believe it.

Let us see now, Paxil, ECT., Wellbutrin, EMDR, letís try this, letís try that, finding info on the internet about dose splitting that not one of the three shrinks saw fit to divulge, a new pill that had a woman with no previous signs of depression hang herself on the Eli Lilly premises during the trialsÖ

I can accept that nobody knows for sure. I can admit that I donít know for sure, but how am I supposed to trust the ďprofessionalsĒ when it is obvious that they donít know either.

Well, easy. They are the ones with the prescription pads. They are the ones with the electro devices to shock my brain. They are the ones with the PhDs and experience and seminars and drug companies wooing them with attractive sales people and the latest data released in the medical journal (by the pharmaceutical companies of course) and most of all, they are the ones with the freedom to watch from afar.

Fuck you. I donít expect you to know what canít be known yet. I do expect you to admit as much though. Otherwise you canít expect me to trust you.

So I canít trust. So I research. So it is all contradictory and inconclusive and fucking irrelevant. And I canít even give them an F on their project! All I can do is let them feed me the newest chemical and see what happens. Yep, weíll all watch with baited breath together.

Zap me. Shine lights in my face. Talk to me. Get me to talk for hour after hour. Whatever you say doc.

You know what I want though? I want assurance that the next time a woman who I trust when they tell me they love me decides to leave me more fucked up than when they found me, I wonít fall apart like aÖ

Like this.

Iím too tired to do it again. I'm too tired to be in charge. Iím too tired to know more than you guys do.

And Iím just too tired.


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