She ate PROZACs as if they were chocolates

 depressions, soul disembowelments, carving in her spirit sad anatomies and abysmal cartographies (there were days when she would wake up strangely lively, effusive, without that heavy body to body of morbid thoughts that depression forced her to carry; and on others I could barely open my eyes, in bed, despite already being awake, and making her smile proved to be a task beyond my strength: nothing worked. ----- There are some days, in the office-school, that people's gaze exhausts me, steals me from myself(.) ----, she would confess, in the midst of the internal efforts of everyday life. I thought that perhaps her natural exhibitionism was a double-edged sword and that she was unnecessarily filled with the demand for physical perfection, which a profane and decadent world like ours prescribed as a formula for success............................

..........................in a low voice, almost as if speaking to myself, looking at the floor while lighting a cigarette cigarette, I was no longer contributing to relieving her agony; it hurt, it disappointed, at the same time that it forced me to explain, to clarify the points that she brought me from the outside world, thinking "I need to write all this down in my notebook", while I searched within myself for the acuity of an experienced practitioner and the aridity of a police report. She ate PROZACs as if they were chocolates