alfredo
just a little sick today, which, given the conditions, it is almost good news. I have no particular problems, but a hypochondriac deadly diseases are always lurking.
seems that things go well: work in progress, almost finished publication to be sent over the weekend, career prospects. But (of but there may be parcels ).
But yesterday I help a drunken friend. We will refer to alfredo.
we knew that we had three years, and I alfredo. fast friends. Friends also our parents. congeniality infantile. I happened other times in life, the mutual attraction to-and-then who would prove to be as mad as me.
alfredo was a phenomenon: good at almost everything, with an irrepressible imagination, that's a little envy and a bit I copied the. studied for forced taxation of the parents, but he had not only great intelligence alfredo was an artist. alfredo was sensitive.
we did together kindergarten, elementary and secondary schools. high school in the same school but in different classes. University has done medicine, I Court. alfredo has not taken even a 30. only praise. then an eighteen, then nothing. why (why true) I do not know. looks like a girl, apparently two girls, apparently bipolar disorder, alcoholism seems, it seems solitude.
yesterday we had seen, as often these days. was in the manic phase. then in the depressive phase. did not want him back home. I imagined that he would go to drink, but how to avoid it? I called him an hour later and I felt drunk. I ran from him, argued with people that it is better not to meet alone accusing her of stealing his wallet. even if they were, we could not do anything. everything was against him.
I brought it home, delivered to the faces of his parents humiliated.
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