Volume VIII: Inherited Dysfunction

6. Past

You’re fucking insane, do you know that? No. The question is, do you? No. Does it matter, I mean, really, does it? Sanity, insanity, who knows and who doesn’t, when you get down to it, we’re all a little crazy aren’t we? Crazy? Maybe. Insane, you are fucking insane. There’s a difference. There’s always a difference. You’re screaming. Am I? I can hear you just fine without it. Well what if you can’t? Maybe I just wanted to fucking scream, is that a problem? You’re being...loud. Well fuck it, sure. That’s your answer to everything. It’s always the same. Everything’s the fucking same. That’s how you always are. Fuck you. See? Nothing’s worth it. You need to snap out of this. Why? Because this isn’t a way to live. Isn’t it? No. You’re insane. Yeah, I know. I’m getting used to it. What’s it like, being insane? It’s like being in love, only worse. What do you mean? You lose focus of everyone and everything, your life, body, soul, the whole works, but you don’t even have a rational reason. There’s nobody to blame but yourself. And you do, blame yourself. Loudly. Clearly. Repeatedly. Over and over again, for days on end, weeks. So long and so loud that the sound is a hum that you must live by to survive. That’s sad. Isn’t it? Try to explain it to people that push your buttons. Try to explain your condition to the people you care about. Try to tell them that you just want to make it stop and live a normal life. Try to get them to understand. They can’t. Or they don’t want to. Pick. It doesn’t matter either way. You survive because you were given a body to animate. That’s a cracked up theory, you live because you’re obliged to? You’re given something, it’s bad manners to throw it away. You’re a hypocrite. Always. It makes sense if you think about it abstractly, everything makes sense if you take it out of the real and make it something that it’s not. Then it’s no longer what it is. Exactly. It’s rational. Love’s one of those things. Life is another. There’s an entire list of things that can only make sense when taken out of context. An entire list. Isn’t that cute? Isn’t it special? Nothing important makes sense on its own. Interpretation won’t help either. Nothing rational is important. Irrational ideas must be made rational in order to make ends meet. That’s why the world is as it is. Nobody takes the time to irrationalize the rational. They’re too busy doing the reverse, trying to make the irrational - rational. They’re all working backwards. They don’t get it. And they never will. Then again, who says that I get it? I could be wrong. No. I could be insane. Remember? Insane. Funny little word. Funny little world too.  

 

That was how I used to think. How I used to sound. When I was spending quality time with my father. As his madness wore off and influenced me. This was my condition, worsening by the day. This was what Angyl rescued me from. Myself. My own worst enemy. I would have ended up just like Lucid. Lucid, my father. I would have been just like him.

The world’s got enough lunatics. It doesn’t need more. I’m glad to have been saved. Trading one set of complications for another. I’m glad to be as I am. I’m appreciative for Angyl’s appearance on the scene. For the rough way I was dragged out of my life. But it was necessary. I understand that. I hold no grudges. I bear no ill will. She did what was necessary. And now she’s at the top of the tower. And I’m at her side. She let a few choice people live, she allowed a few survivors to pass through my father’s wrath. I’ll get into them later.

I wanted you to see. To understand where I’m coming from, the upbringing that makes me what I am. To make it known. Up front. So you don’t bear a grudge. I need you to see what makes me tick. I need you to have background. That’s all I can provide. I have nothing else. I have scars burned into my flesh. I have the pain and the memories in my mind. There are scars everywhere you look. Inside and out. They just won’t fade.

I just wanted to put things into perspective. Try and set things straight. So you could understand completely, before things properly get underway. And so you can see where it comes from. Where everything started.

For the record - I am my father’s daughter.