Black bile... Or just bile... I wonder how the secretion of the liver came to be associated with its metaphorical meaning? Gastric acid would be a better candidate for that... But, the ancient Greeks are no more, and now we're stuck with the bile.

I haven't held a pen in my hand for a while now. And I'm not talking a disposable ballpoints they have at petrol stations for people to sign the credit card slips, I mean a real pen. And I even had a dream worthy of remembering... Am I really so far gone? Have I changed? Or have I just put everything aside, trying to forget about it?

I think that nothing has changed. Mr Prozac, he helps me forget, and he does a very good job. Alas, forgetfulness doesn't seem to be enough. And I don't know what is.

Once, I thought that it would be enough to stop the pain, because the pain was everywhere, in everything. I thought, if the pain would go away, everything would come to its place. I was wrong. I sort of knew that I was wrong, but I hoped that I wasn't.

In the end, it will seem that the deeper desire was the right one.