Dear folks

Thank you for reading my prose. But I have a confession to make. I’m very confused with myself. I’ve always seen myself as a loving person; I can’t and won’t harm anyone, ever. But lately I’ve been thinking, is there any hatred inside of me? If there was, I’d hate myself. I can’t stand the truth that I might not be who I think I am. Identity crisis. Am I who I think I am, inside me is there an evil person waiting to come out?

Confused… I can’t see clearly within myself, it’s all foggy and misty, and in frustration I scream and cry. The Anxiety. Big chunks of emotion waiting to burst, if they burst, what will come out?

I’m so scared and shattered that lately I can’t trust myself, I can’t write anymore, therefore this is my last prose before I go on leave. And if I can’t trust myself, who do I trust?

I’m so afraid that I might end up being someone I despise. Can one control his psyche, or does the psyche control  itself? Gah, I feel sick. I don’t like writing about emotions.

I was having a chat with my analyst, who I lately been going to on a more active basis. She asked me what I was afraid of, the only answer I could come up with was "Me ". She asked "Why?" "What if I have a hidden agenda I don’t know about?" I said. "Like what?" she asked, although I could see that she moved her chair back, as if she was scared to see this new side of me. "What if I become the very thing I am afraid to be, a maniac, a psychopath. If it is psychological, you are not able to control it; it has its own life. This makes me terrified ". She suggested medication, but I told her that medication was not the answer, what would medication do? It wouldn’t change me! If I had a hidden agenda it was not something I would be able to control. According to scientists anyway, if you are a psychopath, you’re not aware of it yourself, you don’t think rationally. I tremble as I write this.

To have no choice is basically what that would be. Am I my psyche’s puppet? Dear God, I’m so scared, please tell me there’s no such thing as psychopaths, please tell me that there’s always a choice, that only my awareness makes the actions. Please, I beg you.

"Andy, maybe this fear is just another way for you to bring your anxiety to the surface? " I could understand what she meant, but it scares me what people can do, and why? Why!? I just can’t understand it. At nights I lie with my pillow over my head hoping that nothing is going to rob me of my conscious.

  If we can loose control of our own conscious and our actions, then what is the point of living? I’m not suicidal, I don’t like to think that I am, but lately there was an actor who killed herself, apparently things had gotten so dark that she couldn’t find her way out of her depression. How did this happen? Why would someone do this to one self? Isn’t the goal of life to pass all the tests and jump over all the obstacles? And she was such a lovely and nice person!

I have to go lie down for a moment, take 2 aspirins, although I’m not sure that is enough…

/Andy, New York’s Daily Prose