Are you guilty of some horrid crime? Is that why you need to hurt yourself? As penance? Or are you wicked, like me, finding pleasure in pain? Why in blazes do you need pain? Explain, please, I am ignorant.

No, you don’t sound horrible. I’m old. So, I’m full of wisdom, a sage, a shaman. Bull-shite, of course. I lose count of the ‘good’ years and they probably weren’t sequential and, yeah, yeah, yeah, years of full-blown mania and hurting others and fear. A lot of fear. Fear of real relationships with single women because I knew that they would hurt me, abandon me, and they did. Couple those years with an underground sexual self and they are fear/pleasure/pain years. But I felt. I had feelings.

I was married late in life and those years were horrid on the surface, not on the dual plane so much. I lost a wife and son (not certain if he was genetically mine) and the result was... three years in a publicly funded mental institution, blah, blah, blah. I tire of telling these tales ad nauseum.

But, yeah, a year of mutism. Too guilty to feel anger. ECT and I began speaking. YOU. DON’T. WANT. THAT. Do you?

Balance? Gosh, I mingle with norms, again, and thinking back? No, I don’t know anyone who has a balanced life. Watch (ooo... I do enjoy watching!) and observe and process and everyone seems bipolar. Why? Because, like us, they are up and down, up and down, up and down, and there is no balance. They are all scared. They marry and f**k around. They have strange desires. They experience cash-flow problems.

You can’t find balance - you want to reduce the intensities that you feel. And you want, I think, to rejoin the right-horror-show of humanity.

I could be wrong. I read between.