Madness is a strange sort of illness.
Some do not even describe it as an illness, more of a freeing of the heart. Or an encapsulating of the heart, whichever way you see it.
It usually comes after loss of someone (or something) dear, or the loss of some sort of addiction.
It comes at you full on, deciding if you are its next victim. It worms itself into your brain, into your heart, and into your lungs. Your brain starts to short circuit, intent one one thing and one thing only; whether it's the madness itself or an obsession of something that means nothing to anyone else.
Your heart starts to beat fast, too fast. It knows what's happening to your brain, or rather, the brain makes it go faster. You see, there is a part of your brain, an unconscious part that somehow is the most important section in that whole slimy, jelly mass of smartness, that controls your breathing and blood flowing and your heart pumping.
And then come your lungs. They spasm and gulp, painfull and real. Though your brain controls the actual act of you breathing, if your lungs collapse, you're gone. Your brain can do nothing but sputter and wish, hope, once upon a star, that they will right themselves and you'll be fine. Because that unconcious part of your brain, it decides when you die.
It's what decides when your last heartbeat will be. It's what makes everything finally stop.
And you keep on living with this parasite in you.
For some, it decides that you are not worth its time and leaves almost immediately.
For others, there's no escaping, ever. It's got your brain in lock down, and there's no point in fighting. Some try their whole lives to escape it, never quite accepting that there's no escape. Others give in, just hoping that one day it'll end.
There are two types of giving in for anything, including madness. Some give in in the sense that they accept this sorrow or in some cases, enlightenment.
Others give in, but turn to drink or suicide.
It doesn't depend on your strength as a person or the amount of strength the brain you were born with has, but it depends on the strength or weakness of the parasite.
But, the thing is, there is no parasite. It is that unconcious part of your brain, here to ruin you and destroy you and kill you, but also to keep you alive.
It is your own brain.
It is mad.
YOU ARE READING
This Way to Wonderland
General FictionWhat if Wonderland was never really there? What if it was a trick, an illusion, set up by a greater force to test the ability of its citizens? Alyce always knew that something was wrong with her life, and that there was something off about the peop...
