Late night reading

It’s late; clearly my finest writing time.

I see a lot of sadness here. There’s a drug and alcohol section but it’s separated from us, the regular depressives. But even they are sad, managing their sadness, anger, frustration, loneliness with addiction.

Why are we so sad when we’re so much more connected than we have ever been? There’s a guy I mentioned before, T, he’s the one who hears voices, but I reckon that was due to him taking drugs and alcohol, or did the drugs and alcohol helps him quash the voices? I might ask him tomorrow, now that he’s in our ward.

I don’t remember many times when I was not sad. The Russians are meant to be sad too. Maybe they’re happier that way. Has our quest for joy and happiness mad us sadder?