My mind is a dangerous place
I try not to think at anything just to stay sane
Or a bit sane, as you please,
Maybe I have something, I don't know its name
I don't know the name of the disease.
Is it okay if I continuously scream 'Stop! Stop!' ?
Or do I have to keep it flowing?
Put my head into water 10 degrees
Below, so as the mind would drop
To its normal functioning.
They're not voices, that's just me
It's me who wants this, all this seclusion
Me, a sanity wannabe
Me, your next-door delusion
Me, an unwanted flea.
Me, an unwritten conclusion.
'You can't enter here!
Freaks are not allowed!'
'But, but...' the door is shut
And you're again left alone in the big crowd.
While walking along the street
You see a piece of glass
And look at it to see yourself,
Wondering why do they all feel the need to harass.
There is nothing, nothing out of the ordinary
You start to think they are the freaks
Ruthless, merciless, unkind men
Like huge vultures with their cruel beaks.
It's their doing, their fault!
You're as innocent as a lamb
You don't have to believe what they say
You're definitely not a freak... Damn!
So you go to the next house and knock at the door
They open it and shake their head
While you're trying to get into the house
The people who live there shoot you dead.
You're on the stairs, your blood's all over the 'Welcome' carpet
Your mouth is open and the shot your teeth has spread.
As they look closer, they can see very well the face
Of the well-known freak who was long time dead.
'We've known her all our lives and now there's definitely no way of getting her back!' said one of the men choking because of his tears.
'It was her choice, she wanted to come here. Remember?'
Of course he remembered! How could he not? His face became stern.
'Please, don't give me that look... I'm as tired as you are...'
'How could you think that I forgot? She came to me. She asked me for advice. She took my advice. She believed in me. She... I... I didn't know what she was going to do... I didn't know the whole story... I...' And he started crying again.
His friend sighed and looked at him. He was now on his knees, crying and repeating 'I didn't know... I didn't know...'
'She knows all the things you have done for her. All the things we have done for her. Maybe she didn't know what she had gotten herself into... You were a good friend and you helped her. You were always there when she needed help.'
'Then, why was she so selfish? How could she do this to us? How could she do this to me?' His eyes were read from the tears, his lips were trembling and his whole body was shaking continuously.
'She just... You knew the state she was in... Always crying... Until she met him...'
'What about us? God, I feel like I'm the selfish one!'
'No, you're not... I don't know what to say... I never knew. That's why she always came to you because she knew that you always say the right words.' He smiled sadly.
He suddenly stopped and stared at him. Then he looked down.
'You never understood her... It's always black and white to you... Her ideas were shades of gray. But that doesn't mean that she didn't love you! You always made her laugh. Remember her laugh?' For the first time, he smiled.
'Yes, yes I do.' There was a smile in return. 'Look, take my handkerchief.'
He looked at it and started crying again.
It was a present.
Given by her.
I'm still breathless, and I can't resurrect
And I'm stuck at this song, it's on repeat.
'Down in a Hole', Layne's words are
I'm down in that hole, I accept defeat.
Part of my growing up, they say,
It will be over and you will one day smile
Maybe they're right, maybe they too were like me in a way
But unlike them, I want to stay in this hole a little while.
There have been so many times in which you felt like a Jew in front of Hitler, like a a woman in front of the puritans, like a heretic during the Inquisition, like Anne Boleyn in front of Henry VIII, like a mouse in front of a cat, like a drop in front of the storm, like white in front of black, like a soul in a body, like a coffin in a graveyard.
I'm dead.
Wonderful is the instinct of preservation
The things that your mind just block
The things that you don’t know how to handle
The things which you control them with an enormous lock.
You say ‘no’, but inside it's ‘yes’
Up there, it’s like a never-ending hurricane.
Which spins and spins, but in the end
You just want to keep your mind sane.
One day it will all go out
And the crossed out thoughts would be unleashed
Then you will remain silent
Watching the enormous lock broken, unwished.
