I have a confession. Sometimes, I wish I would just go insane. This is a terrible thing to wish upon oneself, I know, but it honestly seems more desirable right now than the wretchedness of depression, a miserable, in-between existence, in which I still have the capacity for rational thought, but am utterly incapable of living a normal and productive life.
Sometimes I wish I could just snap, lose the plot, put underpants on my head, stick pencils up my nose and shout ‘bibble’ at the top of my voice. I want to talk to Jesus and stray cats, I want the voices to tell me what to do and I want to proclaim myself the Emperor of Antarctica.
What a sick thing to wish for! But I bet I’m not the only one, am I ?
Sometimes I wish I could just snap, lose the plot, put underpants on my head, stick pencils up my nose and shout ‘bibble’ at the top of my voice. I want to talk to Jesus and stray cats, I want the voices to tell me what to do and I want to proclaim myself the Emperor of Antarctica.
What a sick thing to wish for! But I bet I’m not the only one, am I ?