I didn't want things to go this way.
I didn't want to be in this place.
I didn't want to have chronic fits of schizophrenic delusions.
I didn't want to scare Mary so bad.
I didn't want to be this out of control.
It was so scary. I didn't have a grip on reality. On sanity. I thought... all the things I felt. The pain just took over. Completely. Reality didn't feel real. It felt like a dream. I was laying in bed and Mary was yelling at me to wake up. She was supposed to awaken me from the nightmare, and I was going to wake up and... and I can't go on. But it felt so real. So dark. So scary. And I was sitting at the computer the whole time typing.
I slipped through some other strange delusions. And then I felt sick and dizzy. Very dizzy. I didn't like it.
And yes, I know perfectly well what schizophrenia is. I read a book about it once. A non-fiction informational book about schizophrenia, voluntarily because it fascinated and frightened me all at once. I am not claiming to be a schizophrenic. I am not saying that I am becoming schizo. I am simply comparing my dark delusions this evening to that particular mental disorder. Its similar, but my mental health is obviously not that chronically affected.
It was still a very real temporary loss of sanity though. I didn't like it and I barely got a grip on reality again.
It showed me though how far apart my outward self and my inward self have grown. On one end I'm cool, calm, and fake. On the inside, I'm slowly and steadily going out of my mind with grief, pain and loneliness caused by a variety of circumstances.
This is dumb. Its incredibly dumb. I hate it. But I can't slip into an apathy about it. Apathy is to be avoided at all costs. I sense this now. Living numb is not living. It's not a solution. It's worse than the pain... The pain is so bad, but to be numb...to be unfeeling... would be far far worse... Pain and joy, love and hate, these are somethings. Not opposites. The opposites are Apathy, Lukewarmness... Nothings. Vacuums. Void. Xed*. Death. I cannot and shall not be stoic. I am so weary. I could so quickly slip into an apathy about everything. But that would also be death. It seems so welcoming and friendly...
But its a lie...its an emotional suicide...An ugly emotional suicide so be avoided at all costs. I can still feel. I am still alive. It's tearing me apart, but there is still something there to tear. I have a heart still. Although tattered and torn. A heart which can feel.
I shun it and yet I am thankful.
"The pain tells me a secret...that I can still be healed"
*Xed: pronounced ecks-d of course. X with an ed on the end. Xed is a term from Madeleine L'Engle's A Wind In The Door. Bascially, to be Xed is to be wiped out of existence entirely. It's less and worse than death, because death is something. To be Xed is to be unmade. It is to be nothing.