I Just Might Be Losing My Mind

What to do, what to do?

I often give myself very good advice.
But, of course, I very seldom follow it.
But, often, I'm sure, it's not the best advice. I just make myself believe it's good advice at the time.
So perhaps it's not so bad that I don't follow it?
But maybe it really is good advice. And I just am too stupid to do anything about it.
I think so.
Probably.

I just need to go crazy.
I need to forget everything.
I need things to just be normal for a bit.
I need to not care. Stop caring, Bonnie!
I'm starting to second-guess myself. I over analyze things.
I'm too insecure, but in reality I'm really okay with who I am. I love me. A little too much, probably.

(Stop, Bonnie, stop!)

And I think I just figured out my dream.
Thank you, life experiences, for sorting out my subconscious sleeping nightmares.
It's great, really.

I have this problem. I decide to care too much sometimes. It gets me into bits of trouble every once in a while. My brain thinks too much. I should really stop, I'm sure. I have this instinct where I just need to get away.
(Run, Bonnie, run!)
I just gotta get outta there before it's too late. Quit. Run away. Close myself off. See, it's better this way. Isn't it? I think so. Yes. Fight, dearest. Fight.
Run. Run for your safety. For your life. Your sanity. Your heart. Your entire being depends on the choice you make RIGHT now. How awful.

I'm going crazy. Don't worry, I've accepted the fact. I'm fully aware of it.
I just don't understand myself oftentimes.
No, no, no.
I need to get out of there. I need to run away. Follow that instinct. Do it!
But then.
Oh, wait.
There's that stupid little voice in the back of my head.
"Oh, Bonnie," it says. "Don't you want to give it a chance, little girl?" Of course I start to listen. Of course. With its sweet words and cleverly disguised fabrications. Of course. It wiggles into my brain and heart and almost convinces me. I almost consider.
Then that awful, sickening voice starts laughing. Cackling maniacally. Morphs into an ugly, evil little creeper.
"Yes, dearest," it giggles, its sweet voice dripping with poison. "Consider. Do it. Think. Think hard. Fall for it. Trust me. You'll be so much better. Oh. Wait. No. Who am I kidding? You'll drop like a rock in the sea. Straight into those dark, deep depths where no one but odd organisms reside. You'll fall. Fail. Painfully. You'll be broken again and again and again, and I'm going to watch it all. Fail! Go! Fall!" And then it starts laughing too uncontrollably to continue.
That's basically how it goes.
And then I fall.
And it happens again.
And again.
And again.
And then my fear takes over. The panic. The stress. The anxiety.
And I just. Can't. Think.
And I figure, isn't it better this way? Blissfully aware of the pain and frustrations of life? This way I can say, "Oh, no thanks. I've tried that before. I like my way instead. Go away."
I like that better.

Why is that, dear? Why is that?

Forgive my little outburst, dear. I'm just going a little crazy. It's okay. I'm over it. Not really, but I'll bottle it up better next time. You won't see it ever again.
My fake smile will be posted on my face and everyone will see me being just fine.
Right?
Right?
Maybe. But I'll know better.
I'm really dying inside, holding all these emotions, locking them up.
You won't see it.
But I know what's happening.