I thought I was slowly getting this compartmentalization thing. But then it turned against me. Or did it? Maybe that's the only way for it to work?
When I woke up I though it was just a bad dream - after all, things were looking up, at least some of them, at least I did not want to see when they did not...
I woke up and a split second later it started dawning on me that it really happened. But it was so unreal. It could not have happened. Something so heavy, so choking started rising from the dark corner of my heart and creeping slowly up, up to grip at my throat.
I wrapped it up then, fast, while I still could get hold of it, before it integrated with my brain and became real. I set it aside, on the shelf where bad dreams sit.
I pushed it far away from me, as far as I could.
But it keeps haunting me. It somehow manages to ooze from between the wrappings and swearl around me, veil me with sadness, this strangly intense but numbing feeling...
A part of my mind feels so torpid, I am trying not to feel much, not to think much, it must be unreal, it must be.
So I go put my make-up on to hide the scars and bruises but my eyes stay dead, no light, extinguished, I cannot fix my eyes! So I don't look, I can't look because then my eyes would not be able to contain these feelings that I am trying to put away. And that needs to stay on the shelf. Carefully compartmentalized. Separated.
I know now. I know how it works. When you collect enough of these bad dream boxes on your bad dreams shelf they will scream so loudly, they will engulf you in such terrible despair that you will have to escape into this little space that you may have left and....
Make this tiny fragment a dream.
Make this thing yours.
Make this real.
Only this.
The rest does not exist.
Liberation.
That's when people call you crazy.
