She took the pillbox and saw the day of the week: Friday. With i sigh she took her pills and reminded herself that it was one less day to live, one week closer to the end, so this was a good thing after all.
Sometimes she was not even sure if it was really Friday or if it really mattered which day it was. She just needed the pills organized by days and she needed to remember to take them daily, only once.
It looks simple to have just one thing to remember, but the issue was not to remember just one thing, the issue was in fact what that one thing reminded her everyday. Her fragility, her losses, her chronic condition, the social disapproval for her dependency.
She would wonder why she developed a chronic depression. She would compare it to diabetes type II or a heart condition, that one is not born with, but once it has developed, one cannot get cured anymore. Maybe her brain was an elastic band that was stretched way too many for way too many times and now is incapable of going back to its original position. Then she would say to herself: "what the heck is that? Here I am using sweet adeline's imagery to explain my condition... And I always despised the visualization exercises, they never did anything for me..."
Such was life in this infinite valley of constant sorrow. You count off the days on your pillbox.
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