Thursday: In Brugge fighting myself

It really is true: that there is no overwhelming eulogized self discovery by going anywhere beyond a closed eye. It is all an illusion; it seems like a road to nowhere. But maybe this is because I forever seem to lack another companion with whom to see the way clearly? Am I seeking empathy in society for how bewildered my mind is by this so called reality from dawn until dusk putting us to a yoke and capstan. The alchemist does find his other self and does return to the origin of his journey complete and resolved. Perhaps this is not exclusive to the fiction within a novel and millions of people only need and need each an other; I often wondered what 'my other half meant'.

Ah, sweet Bruges! I knew I would be tangled up here. My soul doesn't need what my head must have. If I was able to cut my body into two distinct selves to set it free I would be absolutely happy, but because these two dichotomy's are polar extremes there will be anything other than separation until one dies; finally! Depression is miss understanding of how to come out of this split. It is my life's battle for which I hope to be victorious before my soul can ever fly and switch away from the alternating sadness/joy. The sadness usually takes over and I am quite blinded to my own needs and it is intoxicating. The only option is to accept this shifting uncontrolled fever: I have been melancholy sad/euphorically joyous beyond the wisdom of my tears.

Although I am unlikely to ever go truly helplessly crazy, part of me is close whenever I see nothing but a lonely shadow falling ahead of me.

Time for Brugge to take me in it's loving embrace never once to blink alert or awake.