When was it, exactly? When did I lose myself in myself? Somewhere between here and here: I was slipping farther and farther from the real. Like I say in this note, my friend marked the first day I spoke my Christ complex as the day that he decided I had gone insane. But it is like falling out of grace, I think, likened to many who lose some intangible thing in this life: it happens not all at once, but gradually, only noticing its lack when it's all gone. Oh, yes, in the summer of 1991, something did psychically break, but before that fateful "snap", I think I was gone. I think I was quite mad even before that. The "snap" just made it visible to everyone else; I could no longer hide behind my gift of rhetoric, the sense of metaphor I used in my talking. No one could deny after the "snap" that I was gone, but I was far offshore by then, and it was my entire ship that cracked in half, that I at that point clung to the world by hanging onto driftwood.
I think perhaps there is no dividing line. You cannot say, I don't think, that in this moment, I was sane, and in the next moment, I was insane. Many borders in this life are fuzzy, hazy. You cannot say one thing ends here and another begins. Or maybe there are parts to it: on this day, just my foot was insane, but not the rest of me. Something like that. Or maybe it was that "snap", after all. Maybe it's when you're so far gone you can't talk your way out of it. Maybe only when they're sure you're gone, you're gone. Before that, you're just weird or eccentric or even "interesting". No one wants to believe it, least of all you. You joke about it all the time, but man, when it's serious — keep away from that. So, when was it, exactly? I dunno. I think it was when nobody was laughing anymore.
Tatiana
10:02pm thursday, 3rd october
Mad people are always trying to tell their stories, their lives. Well, fuck sane people. They don't deserve to tell their life stories.
Tatiana