Inner Sanctum of the Mind
I have an aversion to sadness.
My body and I have grown to treat it like a virus. Apparently, homeostasis is happiness. And like any other invasion, we want to activate the immune system, and expel melancholy out as soon as possible.
But I am starting to understand that my sadness is chronic. So how can I excise something that has seeped into every pore, bundled with every fibre of my being?
My brain has come up with an amazing solution: Sometimes you have to kill the host to kill the parasite. This explains why I have fantasies of dying. Jumping off buildings. Drowning in a river. Being hit by a car. Overdose. Maybe, if I’m really desperate, I’ll slit my wrists.
Now that I understand my mind is a civil war, can we attempt a truce? Can sadness and I achieve symbiosis? Or will there be the occasional saber rattling; backstabbing coups; and cowardly retreats to our respective drawn boundaries? Time, and hopefully enough medication, can only tell. Until then, I will always pick MAD.