A Little Sane

Chapter 127

Journal entry one. 

Journal entries huh?  No idea why they want me to write down my trauma. I guess it's supposed to help release shit. I should probably start with admitting there's a problem. Jerome used to have a journal, but for a very different reason. I'm supposed to take this seriously. So, I guess I'll start with the basic conversations and I questions I replay in my head almost twenty-four seven. I talk to myself a lot too. I actually took over the Gotham underground in less than five years. It's taken all these other crime lords almost ten. I guess I should be impressed. I would be if I didn't have to take over for the reasons I did. So here it goes... I'm going to write what pops into my head and see where it goes. 

Too many faces, too many faces, too many faces. Yeah, what's your definition of success? I don't trust the thoughts that come inside my head. I don't trust this thing that beats inside my chest. Who I am and who I wanna be cannot connect; why? Don't think I deserve it? You get no respect.I just made a couple million, still not impressed. Survived a suicide attempt , yeah, okay, okay, I guess. Smile for a moment then these questions startin' to fill my head, not again! I push away the people that I love the most; why? I don't want no one to know I'm vulnerable; why? That makes me feel weak and so uncomfortable; why? Stop askin' me questions, I just wanna feel alive until I die—this isn't a happy place. Just let me hide; I'm in disguise. I'm a busy person, got no time for lies; one of a kind. They don't see it; I pull out they eyes; I'm on the rise! I've been doin' this for most my life with no advice. Take my chances, I just roll the dice, do what I like. As a kid, I was afraid of heights, put that aside. Now I'm here and they look so surprised, well so am I, woo! They don't invite me to the parties but I still arrive. Kick down the door and then I go inside. Give off that "I do not belong here" vibe. Then take the keys right off the counter, let's go for a ride. Why do y'all look mortified?  I keep to myself, they think I'm sorta shy, organized. Being Jerome's Valeska's wife is the only thing you know about me? Well then you're behind . Story time; wish that I could think like Falcone does, but I just can't decide. If I should stick my knife inside of Pennywise. I, I don't care what anybody else thinks—lies. I do not need nobody to help me—lies. I kinda feel guilty 'cause I now run things; why? I don't understand, it's got me questionin' like, "Why? Just tell me why"—not back to these thoughts. Inside I feel divided. Back when I ain't had a dime, but had the drive. Back before I ever came back to Gotham, I questioned life, like, "Who am I, man?" Woo! Nothin' to me's ever good enough. I could be workin' for twenty-four hours a day and think I never did enough. My life is a movie but there ain't no tellin' what you're gonna see in my cinema. I wanna be great but I get it in the way of myself and I think about everything that I could never be. Why do I do it though? Ay, yeah? Why you always lookin' aggravated? Not a choice, you know I had to make it. When they talk about the greatest, they gon' probably never put us in the conversation. Like somethin' then I gotta take it. Write somethin' then I might erase it. I love it, then I really hate it. What's the problem, Mercedes? I don't know! I know I like to preach to always be yourself, but my emotions make me feel like I am someone else. Me and pride had made a pact that we don't need no help. Which feels like I'm at war inside myself but I forgot the shells. I hold my issues up for all to see, like show and tell. A lot of people know me, but not a lot know me well. Hold my issues up for all to see, like show and tell. A lot of people know me, but they don't know me well. Too many faces, too many faces, too many faces.

Mercedes 

The journal was closed and set on the side table. Mercedes lifted her gaze to the knock on the wall expecting to see Jerome. A very cautious Jeremiah was standing in his place. He parted his lips to speak.

"The twins.. they're awake if you are ready to see them..."

Mercedes hadn't seen Jeremiah since she gave him Mariana. She looked at him surprised, but happy to see him mixed with heartbreak.