"Happiness is a long shot."
"Right now, my only goal is to function."
The Medical City. Psychiatry OPD. Examination Room 2. The room's silence is shattered as the author dispenses narrative after narrative from his all but broken soul– none of which the resident physician fully comprehends. She sits in front of me, politely nodding her head, trying her best to recall any personal experiences that may provide a sense of comfort and reassurance to her latest patient. She fails.
The irony of the situation amuses me. There I was, looking for answers. Looking for meaning. Looking for, at the very least, some perspective. The hope of achieving any of which was shot down by the blank stare of yet another person who doesn't get it. Another individual who simply does not understand. "Understand what, Moe?"
Aliens. Mango Trees. Square Pegs.
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