In 2012 I reconnected with a man I used to do camera ops for back in the 1990s, Bill Krone. At the time I had tossed the antidepressant prescribed to me by Doctor Burton White, a generic form of Prozac. The result of which is that one gets a "whiplash" like effect in their head, as if their head were being violently thrust forward and backward. Also, one is allowed to sleep a full eight hours instead of four or five, and one wakes up with a headache because you've actually had some deep sleep.
But someone, in retrospect, was medicating my food because I would fall into a depressive state. Bill had offered to hire me to do legal video for $20 an hour. A decent amount of money, though not sterling. It's certainly not day rate for feature film work, but unlike a minimum wage job, which I was working, I would be able to save up money for more training.
The only problem was that I was feeling more waves of depression because I could not realize my dream of getting a regular full time job with a salary so that I could pay for additional training, and, as such, make a name for myself in the local video and film industry, and then once having done that, go look for Andrea to see if she was still available and what she was like.
Bill tried to call several times for a job, but I was in a kind of "post drug" state. I couldn't get up, my head was constantly filled with migraines, and I felt groggy a lot of the time. All because someone had access to my home, and was drugging me up regularly even though I had gotten rid of the generic prozac (or so I thought). Ergo when I finally returned Bill's phone call he was put out like nothing else, because I couldn't respond to his phone call in a timely manner.
In retrospect this was because my neighbor was drugging my food. Her heart was in the right place, but she didn't know the effect of what she was told to do. No, I'm not making this up, someone, again through the miracle of psychiatry, decided that my sex life was what was bothering me, and, as such, tried to enable casual sexual notions I might have had. LW was part of that scheme, and thought she was helping me. What she didn't know was that there was probably something more in the medication being slipped into my food, and, that not only were my personal and private thoughts being violated via the drug she was giving me (talking in my sleep and some piece of shit doctor taking notes, or team thereof), but the physiological effects put me in a perpetual state of grogginess.
Again, so when I finally returned Bill's many phone calls back in 2012 he all but gave me the could shoulder, and essentially told me to get lost.
Again, no amount of money, no amount of "I'm sorry" is going to make up for the absolutely FUCKING torture you goddoam fucking bastards have put me through ... for not only did I miss out on an opportunity to rejump start my old career back in 2012, not only did I lose Andrea A SECOND TIME, but some goddamn FUCKING BASTARD was still drugging me up against my will and wishes.
You will pay dearly.