Archive for May, 1994

Why Are You Here?

Wednesday, May 25th, 1994

I had secluded myself into my own little world. I had indulged myself in my
own thoughts. I had blocked out everything else. I was in the state where
nothing mattered to me, and I mattered everything to nothing else. In this
own little state of mind, my own little world, I was happy.

Others looked down upon me. They said that I had forgotten about them, and
about life. They said that I didn’t talk, or show emotions. I do talk.You
just can’t hear it. Only me and myself can hear my words of wisdom echo
throughout my vast mind. Can’t hear them? Good, you aren’t supposed to. I
wasn’t talking to you anyway.

Others started avoiding me. I made them unhappy; I depressed them they said.
Why? What’s their problem? Can’t I relate to others the way I please? Do
unto others unless they do unto you first, for then it’s revenge.

I thought that everyone had stopped thinking about me. That was when I saw you
here. Why are you here? This place isn’t for you. You still have contact
with others. You should be with them. I am here because I choose to be here,
but you are not. Something forced you here.

No matter, either way you should leave. You should leave soon before you are
stuck here. Once you stay here too long, you can’t return. Even though I
have spent years here, I can return if I choose, but I do not. This place is
better for me than anywhere else. I like it here.

Why do you like it here? This is a no-man’s land of thought. There is
nothing here but yourself to talk to, to think about, or to interact with. You
will miss that other place, the place you belong. You will want to return,
but you will be so lost here that you cannot.

I can see you now; I can see you there. It’s getting late, too late. All of
your friends have left as you have left them. I can see you alone. It’s
getting dark, too dark. All of your energy has been drained. I can see you
silent. It’s getting lonely, too lonely. All of your thoughts are one now.
I can see you crying. It’s getting cold, too cold. All of your compassion is

Now, as the people dressed in white come to take you away, I can see your
friends and family wondering what went wrong. And, as the men dressed in white
lock you up and listen to your childhood stories, you fight with the men
dressed in black, the ones trying to lock the door behind you here.

I don’t like this; I don’t like watching you deteriorate. You are becoming
too much like myself. I am not like this, am I? It’s been so long since I saw
myself there. When I look there, I can’t find myself. I’m still there, aren’t
I? I look at you here, and I look at you there. I’m not like you, am I? I
thought I still had some hope of leaving this place.

Seeing you like this, I question my being here, just as much as I question
your being here. I think I must leave this place; I must leave soon before
I am stuck here. I like it here no longer.

Now, I am on the other side. I am here and you are there. I am happy here.
My friends and family are coming back to me. My thoughts and memories have

Why are you there? You seclude yourself into you own little world. You
indulge yourself in your own thoughts. You block out everything else. You
are in the state where nothing matters to you, and you matter everything to
nothing else. In this own little state of mind, your own little world, you
are happy.