Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ

“You say you want more sleeping pills?"
"Yes."
"But the ones I gave you last week are very strong."
"They don't work any more." […]
"What seems to be the matter?" Teresa said then.
"I can't sleep. I can't read." I tried to speak in a cool, calm way, but the zombie rose up in my throat and choked me off. I turned my hands palm up. "I think," Teresa tore off a white slip from her prescription pad and wrote down a name and address, "you'd better see another doctor I know. He'll be able to help you more than I can."
I peered at the writing, but I couldn't read it.
"Doctor Gordon," Teresa said. "He's a psychiatrist.”
― Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar