Nel Wright

I feel like you. I go into that quiet space- trying, hoping, praying to escape all the noise. I feel just like you; waiting, wishing for a sign that will allow me to believe that I'm not going crazy and that all of everything is real. Because only if I scream, or cry, or yell or throw things or break things will it prove that I am sane because that is how sane people deal with pain. So I wait. And I wait for that little lump to form in my throat, for my stomach to start feeling all queasy, for any sign to prove my sanity. But neither tear, nor lump, nor bead of sweat ever comes. I remain calm, numb, even kill. Because I am just like you, Nel Wright. I am insane. I hit the hammer just on the top of the nail, right?