A lone, filtered voice becomes temporarily active, walks up to the podium of the sub-conscious world.
"Love has become nothing more than an illusion. Once, seemingly so real to my eyes and yet now I wonder... had I envisaged a muse made up of nothing more than hopeful dreams? I struggle with this thought daily, only to be further burdened with each new recollection of the past. You see to deny love an existence would be to deny life, that is the poet's way. What would be the point of living as a brain without a heart? Still, I’m a little shaky about this one; these days I tend to have a different perspective on life. It’s a bit darker than what it once was; a mind clouded over by a sense of loss, even if it might not have been real. Sometimes, I find it hard to face the day; kept out of its reach, yet longing for its light touch of warmth. On those days, fear and paranoia encage my body indoors. It becomes excessively difficult to gain back control over my own wandering mind. To be able to sort out friend with foe, sun and moon. I only long to be what I once was, an everyday person with some semblance of normalcy. To be able to once again enjoy life, as it really should be, free; yet, it is this thought alone that keeps me trying. This thought among many prodding me along, being told to me by still another constant voice in my head, which in a way, also lends its support to what is normal. Like a partition of a system, the quarantine to what is and to what one has become. Where are my manners! I should probably introduce myself... My name is Nolan Willis. I guess clinically, they would best describe me as a schizophrenic, coupled with a disassociated identity disorder, well, sort of.
The extent of my current troubles was brought about by a simple “nervous breakdown”. Obviously the attack was brought on by stress, but what was ultimately the cause of the overwhelming stress to my person? This still remains a scattered puzzle; pieces of clues cast adrift on a sea of sorrowful emotions and glimpses of insightful recognition. Was it really an unattainable love that finally got me or was it facing the reality that what I loved was nothing more than a hallucination? I’m sure it wasn’t solely brought on by my work life, but I will be the first to admit I generally don’t take very good care of my health. If left to myself, I tend to forget the easiest things in life, like eating and sleeping, sometimes with compulsive, repetitive tendencies towards overworking, and excessive drinking in moderation. Though hardwired into grey matter, some of these tendencies have made me very good at what I do, professionally speaking. I’m still unsure about a lot of the spotty details myself; it’s hard to trust what you don’t fully remember. So, at least for now, I can do nothing more than follow along and maybe in time things will be made clearer, settled even. I will say this though: time certainly makes life a paradigm with a person in my condition; the human mind works at the speed of thought but will only physically travel at a steady crawl. Confused, mending wounds have a tendency to shirk away from time, but then again, one hopes that so do lies.
Time? Time. Hmmm, yes, a non-spatial continuum in which events occur in apparently irreversible succession from the past through to the future to form a nexus in between the two, the present; a node wherein one is equal to infinity, an equation satisfying both chaos and order, the everything and nothing.
Ah! Here I am going off on a tangent. My attention tends to drift off sometimes, becomes refocused. Haven’t you ever gotten lost in a thought before or even danced with a dream that was superimposed over reality? I should apologize for this, though to be fair, it is bound to happen again. I can’t really help it nor do I want to. This is who I am and I'm not looking to change myself into something I am not. In the past, I’ve always overshadowed it from others, adapt to the situation, as would a chameleon. Its not that I was ashamed of my condition, it is just that I had found that people tend to lack perceptibility; so why bother telling them. Especially since one is never bound by the same laws of what is and what isn't. As a fault, if any, I think it is my pride that keeps me from impeding others with my problems, well that, and the obvious lack of trust. You know, I’ve never really been one to ask for help; there has always been something to prove. I think, if there is one thing I can learn from this one particular experience, it is to no longer make any excuses or inventions for who I am. Actually, I'm sure of it since I really can’t afford to anymore. Truthfully, I’m just not the same person I use to be, or maybe I am more than I'd be willing to admit. I am a victim to a truly broken head, more so than normal.
In order to give someone an overtly simplified understanding of my condition, I can sum it up with these few words, “I am crazy but I’m not insane.” So few actually care to see the difference between the two. My mind perceives the world differently than another would; this in turn affects how I think but not ultimately how I should act. For the most part, I greatly understand my condition and this in turn helps me to know how to cope with it. This fact alone is what helps me choose not to live in that or any other reality. Of course, as merely a rule, this doesn't limit me from learning anything in foresaid reality. Think of it as a distorted conception of mind over matter (the matter being the brain). That simple.
Even from my earliest days, I had found that it is easier in life to keep everything simple. Like honesty, which is a pretty simple concept, straightforward even. Yet I have observed that most people have the hardest time struggling with it; some don't. To succeed in life, it is dire to be honest with oneself. Logic dictates that this would be the easiest start; one is born with it. Somewhere, we lost our way, so now you can see how my life got so engrossed in complication. So this point is the now, where I stand, the day before New Years, staring over and beyond the precipice. Starting tomorrow, I’m going to be taking my first leap out of the safety of my head, to once again walk amongst the trappings of the real world. Left all on my own, for a full year’s length. It’s a scary thought to ponder, but then again, what isn’t? I understand the purpose of it that it has to be done for my own stalled emotional and social development. Still, such knowledge does not make it any easier to deal with. I’m just not sure if I’m really ready for the long road ahead…"
