Suburban Knights

Currently attesting to the miraculous wonders of leftover mefanamic acid, paracetemol and orphenadrine discovered from the back of the cabinet.

Pain's dulled, but it hurts after a while of walking or moving around. I hope it's nothing major.

Kids, don't try this at home. Don't take medications that weren't prescribed for you.

My shoulder still hurts. As if the psychic pain of existence is bad enough, I've got physical pain. We're all growing old; chronic pain and disability's just a corner away.

Fuck ageing. It still scares me, that I'm no longer able to enjoy the thrills of youth - sneaking into R21 movies, having old carefree days where friendships were seen at face value rather than a form of barter trade.

==



Yesterday, during lunchtime peak, the hospital staff freaking pushed a trolley with a cadaver inside, all along the main corridors on the ground floor, in full view of hundreds of people.

With an entourage of sobbing relatives. The attendant pushing the trolley against the current of outpatients rushing to the pharmacy, relatives anxious to visit, staff eager to get their lunch.

And the crowds, they just squeezed past, oblivious to the commotion. Fellow zombies prancing the corridors, too absorbed in their own lives to notice.

A visceral rage flashed through me. 'How could they fucking push a cadaver through the crowded corridors? Where's the fucking respect?'

I don't know why it affected me that badly. The logical part of me is at ease convincing myself that a corpse is just a corpse - a pile of dead flesh, abandoned by whatever forces used to make it tick. A corpse is essentially useless. But somehow, it's just wrong.

It's just not fucking right.

==

Fell out with someone, and I don't know if it's paranoia or hate or whatever but it feels like my mind is being raped. I'm reading into it too much, too little, fuck, I don't even know.

==



Life's pretty bleak now. I could scream and shout and no one hears my pain.

Maybe it's just my messed shoulder that's messing my mind. It doesn't take much to tip me over into nihilist exhaustion.