It's days like today which salvage my life entirely. Days where I'm not plagued with overwhelming sadness, days i can remember what I had for breakfast and lunch, days where the hallucinations are only mild, and there's no other voice in my head than the one on the radio. If I did not have these days, I don't think I could keep it together. There is no reason to. The funny thing about this "personality business" is that sometimes, if i can just completely ignore it, there's the illusion that it's not a problem. I carry on this way until such an obvious catastrophe takes place it's instantly visible, and the involvement (or lack thereof) in my life becomes clear. However, it's all I have. Illusions of grandeur. I can never quite get to the center of my tootsie pop.
Today, the child within me grabbed a leaf from a tree, tore it up in little pieces, felt the sticky texture in her fingers, she held a hand, unromantically, palm to palm, and felt safe. I try to give her as many indulgences in these simple pleasures as I can. She is the only one I have nothing but love and compassion for. She causes no problems, such a small child for childhood to be ended that way. Often when I cry, I cry for her.
Even in these times of "well being" there's still the forboding sensation that it will all end soon. Just like Anna said, constantly terrorized, the breaks in between switches almost being more exruciating than being gone itself. ....... I grow old. I grow old. I shall wear the bottom of my trousers rolled....
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