The idea that one’s distress is primarily caused by a neurochemical deficiency that can be corrected by a drug is a fiction. The idea that it explains first-person experience or that it offers some exemption from responsibility is a fiction as well.
Lines so plain I didn’t know, at first,
I was living in a poem.
“Picture a staircase,”
the hypnotist said.
“At the top, a door
onto a landscape.”
You have to get ready
for a more complicated life.
You have to tell him the simple things
don’t know how to put their round heads together.