I stumbled upon the short film “Happy Pills” tonight, and it touched a raw spot with me. Watching it, I was struck by how I was bringing feelings to the video which hardly anyone else would bring. It was all on slant, and yet hit so close to home. It wasn’t my story, but it was like someone knew, really knew, the dark place from which my story, and those like it, come. The sign of very good artistic insight, if not down right personal experience. Other people watch this and see the video the author created, which is plenty and enough. I see a rippled reflection of my own past. In the words of the man I hear an echo of things I’ve heard for eight years, an uncanny amalgamation of all the bad in two people I tended. In the ladies tight movements and misery and hesitation I saw a shadow of myself. I didn’t play deceit on Grandma, but in the end I did have to let her do what she would however self destructive her choices.

The short is incredibly well acted. Watch it, and see what you will.

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