It’s funny how thinking about one thing always leads to thinking about another. Except when you’re comatose, no one knows what your thoughts do then and there are no memories to show you afterwards. My little foray into thinking got me thinking a bit more today, not much, just one question that kept repeating itself over and over and still won’t go away —
What is Dotty?
No answers come. There are no answers. To have answers you first need truths and all my truths went out of the window years ago. One truth that everyone on this planet thinks they are certain of is BEING BORN. I’ve never been certain of it. How do I know I was born? I only have meine Mami’s word for it and that’s not really proof, is it, it’s hearsay. I don’t remember ANYTHING about my alleged birth and you’d think I would seeing as it’s up there with DEATH in the list of major life events.
Some of us trudging this planet might not even be homo sapiens, we might be another, different, cousin species of the first apes to stand up, homo doomigloomius, homo slittywrists, homo whythefuckamIevenhere. Because most of the time I don’t feel human and human behaviour confounds and baffles me and I think, Dotty they are just like you without the fuckupiness, but no, they’re NOT, they’re SO different that I can only conclude I’m right about not being completely human, or either I’M not completely human or THEY’RE not, it depends who and what the original namer of the species was – if he was a happy chappy then THEY became humans, if it was a miserable fuck then We Who Are Mental did.
But if we ARE all one species then it all becomes truly tragic and hopeless (which is the way WE see it now – which, I suppose, is a TRUTH after all). If we are all one species then NORMAL people are merely posturing their way through life in the hope that others will believe they too are NORMAL. Scratch down a bit and We Who Are Mental would see them for what they really are, reflections of ourselves, because it can’t work the other way round, scratch OUR surfaces and all you’d find is more of the same. And worse.
Which is why, one species or not, WE will always be the not-quite-human humans (if we are human at all), made to feel like an alien species, unborns, mental abominations, fucking loose-minded loonies who need locking away. But it isn’t US they really fear even though they think it is – it’s what they see in us, the dark reflection, it’s what they hear in us, their own echo, it’s what they know when they think of us – that IT lives somewhere within themselves too. And it truly terrifies them. As it should.