I’m having a sort of hard time paying attention because my automated teller has started speaking to me, sometimes actually leaving weird messages on the screen, in green lettering, like ‘Cause a Terrible Scene at Sotheby’s’ or ‘Kill the President’ or ‘Feed Me a Stray Cat,’ and I was freaked out by the park bench that followed me for six blocks last Monday evening and it too spoke to me.
You are here
I start to get the feeling that something is really wrong. Like all the drugs put together […] can no longer combat whatever it is that was wrong with me in the first place. I feel like a defective model, like I came off the assembly line flat-out fucked and my parents should have taken me back for repairs before the warranty ran out.
While I waited I counted my bones. They were all still there. Then I thought, my God. I straightened up, held the cold brick wall while the dizziness came in waves and washed away. I walked very slowly inside, placing my feet carefully on the floor. I went to the desk and signed myself in.
What can you do against the lunatic who is more intelligent than yourself, who gives your arguments a fair hearing and then simply persists in his lunacy?
Just because you’re paranoid doesn’t mean they aren’t after you.
I have found both freedom and safety in my madness; the freedom of loneliness and the safety from being understood, for those who understand us enslave something in us.
This old, familiar ache does not feel so much like sadness as it does like death, if death is blunt and heavy and topples into you, knocking you flat.
Even so, I must admire your skill.
You are so gracefully insane.
Hunger hurts, but starving works,
When it costs too much to love
And I went crazy again today,
Looking for a strand to climb
Looking for a little hope.
Sometimes the appropriate response to reality is to go insane.