Lonely old dogs keeping odd hours.
For those of you that have been following my “observations of the night-waiter series” thank you, but I’m afraid that I’m going to have to interrupt the regularly scheduled program to discuss a serious problem.
Mental illness is the result of chemical reactions, (or sometimes missing chemical reactions), poorly formed synapsis, or other unfortunate, but entirely quantifiable physical features. Some mental illnesses can be treated by medication, some by therapy, some by good old fashioned exercise and clean eating. Mental illness can never, under any circumstances, be treated by saying “get the hell out of bed. What makes you so special?”
This is a real stigma, and a real problem with real solutions. All of these solutions require the banishment of ignorance, and the cultivation of compassion and knowledge. So, lets all do that, shall we? I hope my readers will join this stand, not just against one misguided blogger, but against all instances of harmful behaviour against those who need help.
Here again is my six-word story for the day:
Hidden illnesses are just as horrible.
Twitchy people refusing rules and homes.
Smiling girls, existing to be wanted.
Loud boys, existing only as ego.
Sometimes my penis makes me cranky.
Bald, her body only exquisite curves.
No light, no paper, no pen.