Ramblings from a disillusioned mind!

Dear friend,

My mind. My mind, it’s ripping at my soul. Tearing bit by bit the tiny trembling morsels of what still lingers from the life I once thought I knew that when seen for all its worth turned out to be nothing more than a facade of a family life. Why should you do this to me mind? Why now, why ever? Why can’t you just move on and know that the past is there to teach the future; to show that things can happen, but still as such things can change, the course is not set in stone until the final stone is laid above your head! It just keeps gnawing away like a a rabid beast, mangled and gnarled in the face from where it has even been inclined to feast on itself. I wish I could just take my mind and not do away with it persay, because to do away with what I know and have learned and been through would be to take away who I’ve become, but rather to just omit certain portions putting them on the shelf for analysis on a rainy day much later in life. I write this to you in the hopes that as you’ve seen me through the years you, you will understand my want and yearning for this. I mean, if I end up like Walter Bishop so be it. Fully prepared of the consequences of these wants am I. If only you and I could switch for a day friend, you would understand my woes, and then again no you probably wouldn’t. These woes are not single-moment-oriented but a life-time-grown and a single-moment-shattered-oriented. So I write unto you for I know you will hold my secrets deep in the protective womb of your bosom, you will cherish the knowledge given and hopefully provide insight somewhere along the way. I need not a shrink or other form of psychiatric help for my problems are not in my head but in my heart. The mental capacity for intellect never stops even when the body has suffered severe trauma no matter the injuries be them physical or emotional in nature. 

And so I say unto you friend, I am thankful that I have you and can count on you when I need you. 

Me