Naked Truth

These things can’t be spoken. I wish I knew what they were. Nothing is clear. Nothingness seems to describe what I am or am not experiencing in my mind right now. This has been happening more often recently. I lie here, glancing out the windows and around the room, then I start talking, and it’s not long before I’m convinced that to the silent listener seated behind me I sound like a crazy person. Crazy person is too easy to say. It can be spoken. There’s no threat in such a sentence. Feeling crazy, though, experiencing my own naked mind on this couch, becomes an existential threat. I’m not going to tell him the crazy thoughts that come to me in his presence, in his space, not mine. Isn’t this office my mental space too, during these fifty minutes? If not, why would I be here? These sentences in my mind make me feel naked. Mental space can feel like this. The phrase divine punishment comes to me. Where does it come from? This isn’t working. I must start speaking again, or remain silent and listen to the naked words that come with their own authority. No one said this would be easy. Why can’t I speak the truth? What’s happening in my mind?

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