Love is Like...

There's nothing quite like sitting down with someone you love and discussing how much you don't want to be eaten alive by a tiger.

You smile and your smiles become digitized into binary code.

You can't resist laughing and going into detail, you can't resist fantasizing about an African safari full of man hungry tigers even though you don't even share a bed.

Cereal.

I hung out with some very nice schitzophrenics in the psyche ward.

There was one I used to have breakfast with all the time. I can't remember his name at all, so I will call him Lloyd.

Lloyd was nice. Lloyd was Lloyd.

Sometimes his brown eyes would glaze over into a nice doughnut blue; diamond-like when it was time to talk in a different way. But Lloyd always came back, and Lloyd was nice. He wore a red shirt once.

I think.

Scene 1: Llyod and Luci sit in the cafeteria with other patients. Lloyd and Luci are eating cornflakes cereal (or something like it).

Lloyd: Did you sleep well last night?

Luci: Yes, did you?

[Lloyd's eyes turn to diamonds and time slows down dramatically]

Lloyd(-ish): Once...when I was 16 years old...I was thrown out of the house. I had to learn to defend myself on the streets...I ran away from home. It was cold.

Luci: OK.

[Time restores to normal pace, Lloyd comes back]

Lloyd: I slept very well, thank you.

[End Scene]

Full Circle.

Hooray!

The damage is done.

Now what?

It's not time yet for Q & A.

test results.

In 13 more days, it'll be 3 years since my accident.

Got a letter in the mail the other day...my case is finally coming to a close. Quite nasty.

The damage is permanent. That's what the letter said...

So there's no turning back. I'll never be who I was again. I'll just...it's done. Permanent damage. That's all I can think of. My condition won't significantly improve or get worse...

My brain is permanently damaged.

I suppose it's the first day of the rest of my life.

Chest Pains.

I'm getting tight chest pains and breathing difficulties again. Anxiety.

I suppose the Head Doktor will have something to offer...more pills, I guess.

Emotional long-distance. I am having trouble talking to people and enjoying their presence. I am having an even harder time relating to them. Caring. I wonder if there's pills for that.

I have insomnia.

My memory is hazy but as the days go on and the interactions with people become less...and less meaningful...

...maybe having amnesia isn't so bad afterall.

Faking Organisms.

Who are these people?

These people that go about wearing womenmasks and menmasks?

They're so fake.

You know the kind, right?

The ones who'll be nice to your face. Tell you that you're doing a good job, tell you that you look fabulous, laugh with you. Maybe they bring you lunch sometimes. I dunno.

Once you leave the room, it's a different story.

You're terrible. You're ugly. You're unprofessional. You've "let yourself go".
Then they laugh at you.

Who are these liars that walk around smiling?
Promising you things that will never happen then think its a joke when you're upset.

The liars, the fakers, the takers, the "fair weather friends". They're there while the good's going and gone when the good's gone. The worst kind stick around to keep your face in the dirt.

The one thing I learned from my stay in the psyche ward is that while crazy, people tend to be quite honest but when you catch them in a lie, they kinda just...give up on it. (More tea?)

You had to be held (literally) accountable in there. Damn, did I ever hate the depressing paint job of that hospital.

Who are these people and why do they do it? Why does suffering make them happier? Little drops of suffering and they think your life is just a fucking joke.

I hate them so much. I hate them until my heart hurts.

Crazy Talk.

Don't you hate when people talk crazy talk?

People talk about losing their mind as if it's some sort of new found freedom. Once your mind is lost, it's almost like a free pass, a get out of jail free card or the ultimate inhibitor-killer.

This is not so.

Once your mind is lost, you're gone for better or for worse. I speak from first-hand experience.

Oh, they also lock you up and force you sit outside in gardens. Even when your medication is the kind that sedates you worse than a hit of rophynol. Take you away from your family and friends...take away all your rights and treat all the words that come out of your mouth the same way a person would treat an infant trying to talk. It's just babble to them.

You are in hell, plain and simple.

I fucking hate crazy talkers.