I suppose I was always crazy. That's hard to think of. That people start
one way or the other. No choice in the matter.
It has to be that way. Because I can't pinpoint the one point in my life when I crossed over. There was no: I'm sane. Now I'm insane. It didn't happen that way. It was like I was always slipping deeper and deeper into myself from every point in my life.
I never was not crazy.
It's like a pool. You jump in and you know you're between two points. But you're not. You're within the point. My life was being in water. One wrong move and I'll totally immerse myself. I kept getting deeper and deeper until I was standing on my tiptoes to keep myself from going under. But everyone knows that your tiptoes are unsteady.
I was born in the pool.
I was sad. I can't remember a point where I wasn't sad. I can't remember before I knew I was going to loose my mom and sister. I knew from the beginning that was going to happen. I didn't have a say in the matter.
I can't remember before my life was miserable.
Everything was tainted. I'm happy, but it won't last forever. I'm sad, but it could be worse.
Back to the pool.
When you finally slip completely under, it's too late. Being caught in the undertow, then being pulled completely under. You think, it wouldn't take much to get back out again. But that's a lie. Because the water is soothing. Time seems to stand still underwater, while the whole world goes on above the water, you can sit back and watch it. Being surrounded on all sides by the same, but still changing, substance is comforting. It means security. Security in your craziness.
But you can't spend forever there, right?
So you look up. You see how far it would be to get back up. When you see your old life through the distorted looking glass. It looks scary. It looks so big and intimidating. So you don't mind staying under. Staying under to what you're used to, now.
So not only are you crazy.
Being crazy feels safe.
Because you're suddenly in all this *nothingness*, lost, confused, but it makes sense, too. You stay under because, being lost here, in you own nothingness could never compare to having to live *up there*, in the reality.
I'll never forget what he said next. "Do you ever just want to slip out of reality and get lost in someone else?"
Doing that. I think that was the worst thing I could do.
Because, suddenly, I wasn't lost in myself, my pool, my water. I was lost in him, his pool, his water.
And it was even more confusing.
Because he had purposely left reality. So his view from the other side was even darker on reality. Made it even scarier to ever want return. And him, his water, it was even more secure.
I never wanted to return. I never wanted to leave him. He held me so close, diving me even deeper into my madness...
It has to be that way. Because I can't pinpoint the one point in my life when I crossed over. There was no: I'm sane. Now I'm insane. It didn't happen that way. It was like I was always slipping deeper and deeper into myself from every point in my life.
I never was not crazy.
It's like a pool. You jump in and you know you're between two points. But you're not. You're within the point. My life was being in water. One wrong move and I'll totally immerse myself. I kept getting deeper and deeper until I was standing on my tiptoes to keep myself from going under. But everyone knows that your tiptoes are unsteady.
I was born in the pool.
I was sad. I can't remember a point where I wasn't sad. I can't remember before I knew I was going to loose my mom and sister. I knew from the beginning that was going to happen. I didn't have a say in the matter.
I can't remember before my life was miserable.
Everything was tainted. I'm happy, but it won't last forever. I'm sad, but it could be worse.
Back to the pool.
When you finally slip completely under, it's too late. Being caught in the undertow, then being pulled completely under. You think, it wouldn't take much to get back out again. But that's a lie. Because the water is soothing. Time seems to stand still underwater, while the whole world goes on above the water, you can sit back and watch it. Being surrounded on all sides by the same, but still changing, substance is comforting. It means security. Security in your craziness.
But you can't spend forever there, right?
So you look up. You see how far it would be to get back up. When you see your old life through the distorted looking glass. It looks scary. It looks so big and intimidating. So you don't mind staying under. Staying under to what you're used to, now.
So not only are you crazy.
Being crazy feels safe.
Because you're suddenly in all this *nothingness*, lost, confused, but it makes sense, too. You stay under because, being lost here, in you own nothingness could never compare to having to live *up there*, in the reality.
I'll never forget what he said next. "Do you ever just want to slip out of reality and get lost in someone else?"
Doing that. I think that was the worst thing I could do.
Because, suddenly, I wasn't lost in myself, my pool, my water. I was lost in him, his pool, his water.
And it was even more confusing.
Because he had purposely left reality. So his view from the other side was even darker on reality. Made it even scarier to ever want return. And him, his water, it was even more secure.
I never wanted to return. I never wanted to leave him. He held me so close, diving me even deeper into my madness...