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Rated: ASR · Short Story · Other · #1911577
Phoenix makes his way through a typical day, pondering his future plans...
Still, yet, and again.  Medication list: paliperidone, clonazepam, venlafaxine, simvastatin, valacylclovir, omeprazole, and the list continues...  Phoenix thought about the list and the fact that it could be lengthening in the next 24 hours.  He had an appointment at the VA the next day and would discuss with his doctor his neck pain.  It was a muscle.  Phoenix knew that much, because ibuprofen and Icy-Hot eased the pain somewhat.  A muscle relaxant would probably not be out of the question, though, when he talked to the doctor because the pain had been consistent and severe for almost two weeks now.  Phoenix did not know what he had done to injure it, but there was no question about it being painful.  Sipping on a vanilla latte in the coffee shop at the local bookstore, Phoenix also thought about his current mood and his future.  His mood?  Depressed.  But not as depressed as without the ECTs and the medications.  Not as suicidal, either.  He was more bored than anything.  What did his life consist of?  Not much, by his estimation.  He was on break from grad school for another two weeks.  Phoenix was thankful for the time off, but he also had to be honest with himself.  He was not using his time wisely.  He should be establishing a new workout routine, playing his guitar, creating artwork, making friends, and being so busy with fun activities that he had little time for his regular appointments.  The opposite was true.  He slept most of his time away, complained about his sore neck, performed no physical activity, moped about in boredom and depression, isolated himself from the few friends he did have, made a feeble attempt at artwork, and had not picked up his guitar in weeks, literally.

Phoenix was very lonely.  He had discussed this with his psychiatrist at their last session together.  Phoenix told his doctor that he was not entirely sure that he knew how to make new friends.  His doctor helped him with this crisis and Phoenix felt somewhat better after the conversation, even though he did not put any of the suggestions into practice immediately.  Phoenix was afraid to.  After all, it almost always turned into a feast at Phoenix's expense, and expensive financially it was.  All of Phoenix's friendships tended to be about money, and Phoenix hated that.  They were not true friendships as far as Phoenix was concerned, because Phoenix had never, ever thought about asking any of his friends for money...but they always asked him sooner or later.  What was a person to do?

And so, Phoenix was obviously, still, yet, and again, depressed.
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