Sanity In An Insane Asylum

Sometimes taking a deep breath lasts forever.

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What do you see when you see me, what am I to you? Are you and I any different? You say you can’t go mad. You say you’ll never go insane. But which of us is most afraid of reality?

The following is a piece that should make you think. An article about you, thinking about you, thinking about your life. To best relate to this article one must imagine oneself in an asylum, confused, but assure of oneself, deemed insane but mostly mad. Mad not because one is crazy, but because what one thinks — you wonder why no one else thinks it but you.

What follows also is a series of narratives heard within the Asylum, from the insane.

Why do I have to experience life, to know life exist? 
Why do I have to die? And why did this have to be the life I got to experience? Why must I die, never really knowing what it is I’m miserable for.

“What if we weren’t meant to know something but to feel something? Maybe all these feelings of guilt, of happiness, of joy, of suffering, of peace, are fleeting because feelings are the only things you cannot deny.

And if feelings are the only things that can’t be denied, what is that one feeling we deny that makes us feel so much when we doubt it exist?”

“What if you have no interests, no cares, no skills, no talents, no joys, no sadness, no point, no concerns, no need to survive, no passions, no will… would you rather commit suicide at 17, or live in a society where the average age is 17?”

“We all like to think somehow somewhere our presence is meant to be known, to be felt, or to be realized. But, what if we are far from this truth. What if we were to see ourselves as absent from this experience; no longer observers, no longer participants but were merely abstractions. To think we were never here, whatever is actually never was. We were merely abstractions. Abstractions that like a mirage or fading image try so desperately to hold on to what we see is our reality; our understanding of self.

What if we were never here at all, and it is only because we are conscious we only think it because we wanted to see the illusion that we were alive. Though we were constantly dying.”

Originally published at

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