. . . as though I have a demon in my head, except I don't believe in demons. It keeps jumping up and down, flapping its arms and laughing wildly, and it wants me to do the same. I am resisting, even in the privacy of my own home, because it is only one small step from there to obeying in public, and I do quite enough leaping around in the supermarket and the streets when my mood is high.
This "demon", which I guess I could more accurately describe as a personified surge of insane elation that doesn't feel like part of me, is behind me on the left-hand side. I wonder if it is like this for other people, that voices and presences and inserted thoughts come from particular locations, have their own geography.
I seem to have lost my ability to read. I keep trying but somehow the sentences won't go in, and I end up throwing the book aside in frustration. And I am scared to watch stuff because of something I heard the last time I did. This leaves me at a bit of a loss. I don't know what to do with myself.
I should have a shower today. I really should. I know that, but something in me resists. I don't want to have a shower. I don't want to take my clothes off. I don't want to be clean. I find my own smell strangely comforting. And there is little else that is.