InsaneJournal

I grew up as ordinary as everyone you see around you.  Certainly I've had my fair share of traumatic childhood pain.  It was this pain that pushed me over the edge.  I guess that sounds like a cop-out.  However, I remain fully aware that it was dissociation that I experienced.  And the dissociation came from the intensity of pain.  Would I have dissociated without the traumatic events?  Would I have started fantasizing?  Would I have heard the words and the songs I heard, at all, if I'd led the kind of life you're supposed to lead as a child, instead of escaping from regular sexual abuse?  I'll never know the answer to this.  I only know that the abuse exacerbated the Other World, as I call it, where I hear him, my Other Half, and experience his life, in intimate detail.  Is this Dream only because of the trauma?  I'm not so sure.  Sometimes, it seems so clear that I have made everything up to save myself from the pain of the usual, daily grind that is life.  Sometimes, though...  someone writes exact phrases and exact experiences that match what I've collected in my journals over the years.

It is the very fact that not only has this world not faded, now that I am an adult no longer surrounded by the pain of my youth, but the fact that many of my intense fantasies seem to be revealed in small samples from someone in particular.  I dare not speculate about who, out loud.  I dare not invoke the mirth of people who barely know anything about me, before I've had a chance to prove that I am about as uninteresting in every other aspect of my personality but this one thing.

This Thing.  No matter how I throw myself into my work, my friends, and the short-lived relationships that come and go, there It is, this obsession of mine.

No idea exactly where the notions started.  Perhaps I am just a victim of the idea of the Romantic Hero that pervades literature on up into modern movies.  Not all of this can be easily dismissed by articles about the brain and the flaws to which all humans are prone. 

I have gone months without entertaining a single stray thought about my obsession.  Then suddenly, this strange, confusing feeling will come over me.  It feels like the world is spinning too fast.  It feels like I'm taking off in a rocket into outer space.   It is better than the very limited exposure to drugs I've ever had.  Sometimes, I'm full of euphoric bliss.  Sometimes it sends me into a hellish pit where all my nightmares about insanity, the industry of psychology, and the scientific expectations that all of this can be solved with a little rational thought control.

Sometimes I'm sure to scare everyone to the core with the depth of my pit.

Who am I?  Am I merely a girl with a fantasy world that has gotten out of control?  Should you be afraid that I'm one of those scary girls that inhabit various messageboards?

Am I really gifted with a receiver to someone whose life is what we're all taught to envy?  (I know better...  I don't have many illusions about what kinds of relative difficulties he faces...)  And how much of this reception is hindered by the filter in my brain that wants to be as special and beloved as he is?

Which is it?  Certifiably insane and a hopeless case that will end up gracing a psych ward in my later years or gifted visionary?