My friend is losing her mind, for a fear of going insane, because no matter how
down she is, there's still room below.
Her is no tragedy, just a life characterized by gross misinterpretations,
unbending images of self and pure, uncut anger.
It never allows her to hang loose, or be without pain for one second. She is so
aware of herself that the absurdity of it all is killing her.
And getting out of bed in the morning is like slow suicide, because she knows
just what's going down.
Sometimes, I think you will have to kill someone just to maintain his mental
balance. And as repulsive as it sounds, I will be able to justify his actions
logically, fallibly, and with very little imagination.
Her life is beyond reason, the very nature of her being is so insane that I
almost give up, searching for ways and meanings to comfort her, to keep her
around until tomorrow. And if I thought that there was true peace in the
grave, I would kill her. But fortunately for those who are miserable, and
unfortunately for her, I do not believe that death will even things out.
Unbeknownst to her, she is every friend that I have. She is the mirror,
reflection of me, and I love myself.