I'm not sure what Bono meant when he sang that; the lyrics don't seem to make much sense. It sounds like, either way, we're going crazy. I think I'm there already.
I feel that familiar friend is making its way back to my doorstep. I have been growing unhappy at work and now I have genuine desires not to be there at all. The same heavy cloud of doubt and disillusion is returning, and I fear it is to bring a lot of bad weather with it.
The fear that I am a mere moment away from disappearing into the place were things go when they don't matter anymore, dominates me. I don't know how else to explain it. I am sad, and I am frustrated, and even though I feel like I don't know who I am anymore - I know for sure that I don't want to be her.
I feel sick, and heavy with the pain of a phantom limb I have not lost. As if that limb is the life I do not have. In this moment, I feel pathetic and I wonder how I shall make this moment pass. I suppose most of 'this' shall subside by morning, like a bad headache - but the fracture in the skull still lies beneath.
The same patterns are revealing themselves. I seek distraction to overcome these feelings, but experience tells me this will be short lived and futile. This time, there is no one to confide in.
I want to pour my poor heart out to John, so that he may see some worth, pick me up and piece me together again. But what if John has been a long, exhausting distraction and nothing more. My sisters wedding was once this very thing. What if my feelings are overblown and misplaced? Fuck, what if I really am crazy? He could just be a scapegoat for all the things I have made up in my head.
Do you suppose crazy people 'know' they are crazy? Is it in the knowing that makes it real; or worse, in the not-knowing?