Therapists in Hell

We have therapists down here in Hell. Making your peace with unreality can be rather difficult at times. The central challenge is accepting that nothing will ever make sense.

The little one within me is getting bigger and bigger. AND that’s good because according to the pomegranate count—the way that time is counted down here—I only have about three more months before I have to go on my annual visit up above to visit mother.

I really don’t want to go. When I’m up above, I just have to fit in with every one else, and the show is more mother’s than mine. Zeus is always glad to see me. He worries about my mother Demeter when I am away. She apparently gets really miserable—worse than when I went off to college and only came home for vacations.