A year and a half ago, when I hit the lowest of the low, I spent a week at a friend's place (yes, for monitoring reasons). I had just started taking meds and were at that weird point between screaming darkness and pale oblivion.

And yesterday he tells me: "You know what your problem really is? You don't have any hobbies. Remember that week you were staying with me? You only just kept watching Buffy or you stared into nothing. That's what's wrong with you."

I mean, dude. Getting up from the bed and walking to the bathroom was a genuine success back in those days. I am aware that we have to deal with this from time to time but boy does it ever get so tiresome.