I have several stories within me... One goes like this: There's a troubled young man Whose troubled mind sinks him to the point of despair, detaching himself from reality This is the adventure, the thrust, the plot: For the young man to find some way to return to reality To reconcile the fact that reality is messy, and complicated, and arguably unsafe And that to live within reality is to daily live with other people, To daily reconcile the many contradictions behind our modernity, The lies we tell to one another, and ourselves The chains within our own hearts... But to return to reality for the people he loves.
Perhaps each author only has one story within them at any time, and this is mine.
Shall we finally write it?
No, it isn't yet time...
THOMAS I just can't, I can't do anything about it!
THOMAS Why are you all after me? Why can't you leave me the hell alone? I don't want you here, don't want you, don't want you...
(THOMAS clutches his head, sobbing, in the fetal position)
The head is our enemy. It is the instrument that perceives, informs, allows us to live. But it is also what lies to us in order to keep us safe. To satisfy its own protectionist urges. If the body is a family, then the head is most certainly a parent, Stigmatizing and punishing the other members, Or perhaps in other times embracing them with love.