ON, LET'S START WITH THE TIP TOP UP_We are all Benzos_Night librarian_The Ultimate Betrayal
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ON, LET'S START WITH THE TIP TOP UP
ON, LET’S START WITH THE TIP TOP UP The conference was held in a hotel which stood isolated on a hill near a wood, and which had the appearance of a castle, even though it had only been built a few years earlier. It was a castle built with ultra-modern materials, a castle with walls glittering like mirrors. And in those (its) walls which all shone like mirrors, there were really mirrors, but you could realize where they were, surrounded, almost embedded, one could say, as they were between the surfaces which seemed but were not mirrors, if not when, passing in frwww.onedoor.ccont of them, you saw yo...
We are all Benzos
I have always have been an anxious creature. Living always in my comfort bubble. For instance, even during the last pandemic, the fact that I was confined me to my one-bedroom apartment was not so bothering to me. I wasn’t going out much before either.What was taxing my nerves was this anxiety; “What if I get sick and die in excruciating pain, gasping for air?” Because that was the tableau that was drawn by media for this covid-19 disease.So, since my panic attacks aggravated after the lockdown, I had an online consultation with my psychiatrist and he gave me a reboot. No more just alprazolam ...
Night librarian
- What have you got there? Show me your references, young man. I hope you're not a reader or a bibliophile. - I like to flip through a book before I go to sleep, but my friend doesn't pick up books at all. Here's my recommendation, if you'd like to see it. My name is Shimmie. I worked in the archives of the Academy of Sciences. I have a bachelor's degree — a philologist by training. - What do you mean, you have a degree, and you don't read books? - But I wouldn't say I like reading. I've read enough in my life. My head is swollen from books. - That's commendable, young man. Books cause all the...
The Ultimate Betrayal
The day is colder than usual. Is it the air or is it the grip that tightens around my heart whenever I think of you. The dripping of rain outside the window thumping on the stone path ripples through my mind. I am lost. Alone. I can hear your footsteps coming down the stairs, they seem slow and laboured as though you have had a heavy night, as usual. My hands twitch in anticipation as I consider and reconsider how I should approach the situation. Your feet hit the tiled floor of the hallway and I hear you enter the kitchen and rummage through the cupboards. Are you completely oblivious of wha...