I used to make jokes at work. People smiled, people laughed. They don't do that now. The news makes everyone nervous. Worried. Angry.
When I was crazy, I thought everything meant something. Not just words, everything. I imagined I found out the meaning to this or that, what was wrong with it, how to fix it. And I fixed it. Whenever I feel really bad, or couldn't figure something out, I thought I went outside myself , and watched from there.
I heard the word "errand" today. A child said it. For a moment, it sounded like "errantry", a code word from that Superheroes Game, for my make-believe days.
I stopped going to work. There's not really a point.
Something is missing.
I have to keep writing. I don't really know why. It's important. For some reason.
There are words written on the back side of this front cover. A quote from Mr. Nuncle. He was my English teacher, back in high school. He's been dead years now. He believed in opposites being necessary for something to exist. That the opposites needed a middle in order "to belong." Black must have White. They both need Color. Light must have Darkness. They both needed Dimness and Dawning. Happy must have Sad. Both needed Anger, Fear, Surprise, etc. If one of the two didn't exist, the other couldn't. If the Third part was missing, the other Two could not survive. He actually believed all that. It doesn't even make any sense. Not even this I must have written. "There is Life, so there is Death."
There are other things written under it. They make even less sense. Each sentence starting with the word "Because." of all the irresponsible things. Starting a sentence with the word "Because." I really had lost my mind back then.
There are pages missing from this book. I locked them away, in a last fit of insanity. I should throw them away. Reading them is just a waste of time, keeping them without reading them a bigger waste.
It makes no sense to keep writing.
Here ends the journal.