On why Psycholgists rock harder than The Darkness on PCP.

Her: How are you?

Me: I feel awful. I feel miserable and sad and useless and rubbish and pathetic and needy and angry with myself for feeling those things and just really, really bad. *Dissolves into tears.*

Her: *Hands me a tissue.* And you expected to feel? How?

Me: I dunno. Happy I guess. Better.

Her: So you thought you could move house and it would make the pain of the marriage break-up and the sadness of losing your Dad and the fear of what to do with your life and the feelings of worthlessness and the fragility of being depressed all suddenly go away?

Me: Um...I dunno. *Sniffs*. I guess not.

Her: Because you don't have a red cape on do you?

Me: Pardon?

Her: Well you're not Superwoman are you?

Me: *Laughs*. I don't look good in just my tights.

Her: And if it was your best friend feeling like this what would you tell her? That she was stupid and pathetic to still be feeling miserable?

Me: No! Of course not, that would be horrible! And wrong.

Her: Well, er...

Me: *Thinks.* Oh. Right. Oh I see.