There is a loss that you feel at that moment of intersection between realities.
Almost a rebirth, where you cease to be yourself and become a machine of flesh, bone and blood, you feel your heart beating in your chest but you are unsure if it is yours. In your head emotions scream and rage, voices and imagination take root in reality and suddenly your entire sense of self is gone.
The self that is held together by rational thought, the concept that one moment actually directly followed another, one action has a consequence that creates a system of interlocking moments that in the end make up our very lives.
The loss of that to the emotional self, the one that doesn’t say anything to you as much as it is you, it doesn’t control you as much as it is a loss of control, a loss of time, space energy and rational thought.
Yes, I have been mad. Doctors have told me so many times that I have this disorder or that, this disease or that malfunction. I am like a clock ticking out of time in rhythm with the heart beat of the universe.
Slipping into madness isn’t something anyone enjoys, it’s not something you choose, it is a reaction, a moment chosen for you by some greater self brought to life by our experiences, emotions and chemical imbalances.
I’ve tried to think how I would describe being mad to people, I never have any real answers.
Madness isn’t logical. It just is.
Sometimes people become mad, some are just born that way.
I don’t know which I am. It has ceased to matter. I am forever placed in a position of debate against my psyche.
Mad is not fun.