I'm staring at a picture taken of a place I don't know if I'll ever see again. Listening to the sounds of exactly what I felt there. And I think of the words, 'got lost in the places I've been' and I think 'Have I been lost?' Where have I been? Or is this one huge delusion I've been having from this childhood bedroom? I can't imagine. Either way. Both seeming equally as plausible and almost as insane. Am I self-medicating or creating my own illness? Don't we always do both. She told me she doesn't even name her sicknesses, therefore, do they exist? Like if you don't understand anxiety, you do not identify to it, so do you feel it? I'm not sure, if all this pain is just a thought we identify with and make it part of our identity. Psych, reality. She's telling me about leaving, and it makes me sink farther into the ground.
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