WARNING : This personal diary is very private. I trust you enough to let you have a glimpse of my mind, so please, do not share it with anybody else!
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=> ENTRY 01 - I defeated a bank robber!
Right now, I feel kind of sad. I don't konw why. Am I tired? Maybe. Surely. Haven't been sleeping much last night. Too much coffee, I guess. I feel like crying. But every time I try to let it go, to cry, to let the tears roll on my cheeks, my body tenses up. My muscles seem to try to push the emotion back. I'm fighting my own emotions. I guess I'm still a bit afraid of the deepest, darkest places of my mind.
I've been into weird states of consciousness, thanks to tiredness. Can't explain it. Things just feel so real and so unreal at the same time. It's like I'm dreaming, but awake. I'm in awe of things that are so simple, so benign. Like, shadows on white surfaces.
My sense of the universe is nothing more than the sum of the signals that get from my nerves to my brain. It's a weird thought. I'm nothing. Just energy. Biochemical energy. And without consciousness, I'd still be there. But I wouln't know it. There wouldn't be any I.
Today, I had the radio show. I was the guest, this time. I felt like I was going to have nothing to say. That I would sound like an idiot. And yet, I had so much stuff to say. I hate that when I speak, sometimes, I don't know how to stop an idea. I just keep looping on the same information, on the same idea, over and over again. I can't find a conclusion, a logical, definitive conclusion to what I'm saying. I should look into this. But in the end, it went well. It made me feel that my pedantic views and idea about comedy are not that farfetched. They stand the trial of being told to someone who knows nothing about it.
One thing that I noticed, is that when she was asking me questions, I would get agitated. I just wanted to throw the question away. I think I figured out why (because it's not the first time in my life that I over react to people asking me questions!). It's a defense mechanism. With what I went through, people asking me questions about my private life could bring me to rat off what was going home, all the beatings. For me, that would mean a death sentence, clearly! So I would just panick, throw away the question. Chase the questioner away. That way, the little dirty secrets were kept secrets.
Now, this has become a useless tool in my mind. I should get rid of it. I understand that people asking questions is not a dangerous thing now. They don't mean bad things. They're curious. They want to understand what I'm saying. There's no threat at answering them.
And I still don't know why I feel like crying. And I really don't like having my body fighting it back. But I fear so much the intensity of the emotions still waiting to be processed. I just had this dream, recently. Me in bed. In the dark, a shadow over me. I'm afraid. I'm powerless. And that tells me that maybe, I'm not as ready as I tell myself to see all this. Those shadows in the night. The fear of dying. The certainty of death.