The clutter of madness that surrounds me physically is a mere projection of what my mind looks like daily. Sometimes it feels as if there are several other personalities bidding on my sanity.
Like a bad sitcom that reruns night after night, repressed memories form new ways of expressing their misery and creating fresh guilt, and stealing the freedom that repression gives.
I don't pretend to be free from all the things in my history, but as crazy as it seems I don't know how to be me without the chaos and broken dreams that have shaped and molded me for as far back as 1973.
Just when I thought I've overcome some, a certain date comes, and my subconscious leaks out a trigger, a reminder of what I've done, then accuses me of forgetting that I have to pay, my punishment a few days of depression, followed by bouts of crying and attitude to be reckoned with.
Putting myself back together is something that Jekyll and Hyde could probably relate to. The transformation is quite a site from dark to light, demon to angel, sinner to saint. It almost physically hurts, actually, it's 99% of most of my aches and pains, I know that its the culprit that triples my blood pressure and keeps me up with killer headaches.
I don't think things will ever change because then what would make me, me?