3412 Kafka

Uncertainty is a certainty if you ask me. I hardly know where I am going, let alone where I am. Please believe me when I say this. I think that dreams are an escape from reality. For me, they are a necessity. They are a place where I can let my grasp on control slip. They are a refuge from the draining of thinking. I can believe anything there without consequences. I actually feel safe... for once. Don't get me wrong. There are some good things here and there in consciousness, but as a pessimist, I naturally look through the glass walls people put in place for me. I see all that is sad. All that is terrible in people. I am finding it harder and harder to make it though the day, and I mean who would if they found yourself in my position. I do believe I'm ill. That I'm going mad and no one even realizes it because they are too caught up in themselves. How sad is that. Now what I don't understand is am I really if I am aware of it. Do the insane know when they are beyond comprehension of the pristine world? I have always found a fascination with those who live on another level of consciousness; maybe because I too am not far from them. I guess I just have to wait for the opportunity to ask someone colloquially. I think I now know how K. feels.