Many a times creative souls have misguidedly romanticized mental illness – Adult critics who have declared Sylvia Plath’s poetry genius owing to her mental affliction and personal tragedies, young writers unable to separate the ‘coolness’ of Bukowski’s alcoholic crutch from his literary talents.

We are from the same place, but we’re both gone from there now. The place defined by it’s proximity to better places, a nameless suburb shoved between the wealthy ones on the lake and the skyline that gives it value.