Is the diagnosis bad? I slept all day beside the TV on the floor beneath my bed. Could you come and check my mail? It seems you have forgotten how I should be noticed even when I'm feeling well. Still I can't tear night from day. The blankets have been knotted up to provide my getaway. But I pretend I'm not awake, just in case I end up cornered by your footsteps, trapped without a clean escape. You're too late to intervene. The compass has been set. Drew conclusions on my own. I needed more than rest. But it seems that I think best when I haven't even dressed. Sadly that's when no one is around.

If I pull my own self out, form a partnership with arrogance, build up my appearances, cater my acquaintances, learn that better businesses make progress on demand, then I'll be a healthy man. Just watch them cling to every word.