I don't know why I'm writing this, my brain sometimes tells me to do things and I just don't want to argue with it. Just pick your battles. I sometimes argue with it when it tries to keep me up at night or almost missing my train stop. Different kind of battles though, on the train I pinch my self or pace up and down to stay in the moment. So it wouldn't go into what I call "The inside". At night the battle is much easier, four to five scotch glasses usually do the trick. Though you might be asking your self, whoever finds this diary, why a therapist wouldn't prescribe herself pills? I find that a doctor addicted to sleeping pills is a bit too...... romantic for my taste. The scotch hasn't failed me so far so whatever works.
I don't know why I'm writing this. Maybe it's to help me find insanity properly. I deal with it daily, but it's so detached from humans or emotions or even a state of being. I deal with insanity as a profound concept. Almost as an element of the "Universe". And I use the word "Universe" loosely, but that's a topic for another day.
Insanity though.... that concept, that thought, that....thing, it haunts me. I see it in my "Patients" in their faces. Their faces blend, they are all here whenever one of them is. In this room where reality belongs to whoever is in it. Different realities come and go and come again. All of them feel as real to their owner as yours feels to you or as mine feels to mine. Brain after brain creating worlds and destroying them. Why does the world reality exist when no two can agree on what is real?
It doesn't matter anyways! Death wins in the end. He died and she died and my lover died and they all died. Maybe "To Die" shouldn't be a verb, death happens all the time. It's the only reality. The clock has stricken and another face blends with the others, his reality enters the room and stays as long as him and as he leaves death follows. Not too close and not too far but always there.
And I ask why? Is it to satisfy a broken heart or the insatiable senses. He looks at me everyday and he is beautiful. I can't imagine seeing all those faces without him there to reassure me, when they lay down on my couch I look up at him and he smiles and nods as the face’s reality plays out but never amounts to anything. And thank you I say... Thank you for keeping me sanity. For I know as much as I search for insanity if I keep my eye on the truth, the one truth and the only truth, I won't be lost. Death will come and that's a truth that gives me perspective. Ah another one has come, I like this one he talks to jigsaw puzzles... let's see what he'll teach me about his reality.....
It doesn't matter anyways! Death wins in the end. He died and she died and my lover died and they all died. Maybe "To Die" shouldn't be a verb, death happens all the time. It's the only reality. The clock has stricken and another face blends with the others, his reality enters the room and stays as long as him and as he leaves death follows. Not too close and not too far but always there.
And I ask why? Is it to satisfy a broken heart or the insatiable senses. He looks at me everyday and he is beautiful. I can't imagine seeing all those faces without him there to reassure me, when they lay down on my couch I look up at him and he smiles and nods as the face’s reality plays out but never amounts to anything. And thank you I say... Thank you for keeping me sanity. For I know as much as I search for insanity if I keep my eye on the truth, the one truth and the only truth, I won't be lost. Death will come and that's a truth that gives me perspective. Ah another one has come, I like this one he talks to jigsaw puzzles... let's see what he'll teach me about his reality.....
