Pardon? You’re beginning to fade out too fast. You want to come back but you don’t know how? Well, it’s a matter of whether I invite you or not. You’re here because I wanted to help you, but if you’re going to be disrespectful about it then you can go. I don’t care anymore. Hang on a minute, God’s talking, I should what? Not be so pouty? OK. But I went to hell and back to bring this message and they think I’m a crack pot. Yes, I knew they would, but it still stings when it’s shoved in my face. You want me to give them another chance? Well, you’re the boss. Can we just leave it for today now? They can walk with me tomorrow, I’m feeling really pissed off. Mmm, hmmm, yep. Got it. You going now? See ya. He’s gone. He extends His grace, He says He Loves you and all is forgiven. I say I need space and we’ll start afresh tomorrow, like this little spat never happened.
Part 2 -
There you are! I was wondering if you’d come; but I messed up, I’m really sorry. Can we do this Monday? It’s just that I can’t see you on weekends. My husband is home and he needs things to be just family, you know how it is. Plus my daughter is thirteen years old today, a teenager, eh? Now there’s something to celebrate. I forgot to put the yeast in the cinnamon buns though. Can you believe it? Me of all people - I make them as beautiful as any baker three times a week and when it really matters I forget something as basic as that. They came out like a pre-school cooking project, you know, the ones where the moms eat it and fake a smile for the sake of their little one. They should have been delicious, all that butter and sugar, but they look and taste awful. So I’m not in the best of moods to be honest. Oh, well, I can whip up a batch of macaroons and have them baked in twenty minutes so that’s what it’ll have to be instead. He might prefer them anyway. I’m sorry, you’re not really here for all that are you? Where are my manners? You aren’t interested in knowing these boring mundane things. We’re off out to lunch at my daughter’s favourite Italian restaurant. I’m so looking forward to it, fresh pasta and creamy sauces. Love it. Oh, I’m side tracking again, I do that a lot. Stop me anytime, I’ve always been a bit of a gabber. You look serious, what’s up?
You think I’m still mad with you? Oh, no, not at all. I forget these things faster than a teaspoon of yeast, ha ha. No, seriously, I’m not the grudge holding kind. Glad to see you’re looking normal again, I didn’t like that rapid changing thing you did the other day, not cool. You want to know more about my mental illness but you’re scared to ask, that’s right isn’t it. How did I know that? I know these things, plus it’s kinda obvious. People find it as fascinating as those cop shows with dead bodies draped all over the place. I’m not saying you’re morbid though, not at all. I like you! I used to watch those cop shows myself, until I figured out their role in keeping me ‘asleep.’ All that fear you know, it seems exciting at the time but it isn’t good for anyone, it just makes us feel good about ourselves for not being barbaric monsters instead of actually getting off our backsides and doing something positive, that’s partly what I mean by ‘sleeping.’. I prefer being awake, everyone’s much safer that way, trust me.
Anyway, mental illness, being crazy, loopy, insane, sounds amusing from the outside, not so much from the inside. Imagine the worst nightmare you’ve ever had, take a moment to recall it. Then imagine you were unable to wake up from it because you are already awake. All those bizarre ideas that make so much sense when you’re asleep start to make sense with your eyes wide open. I know you want to know if that’s what happened to me, but I’m not going to tell you too much more right now. Please don’t be offended, I don’t know you very well yet. Later on, sure.
Maybe there’s some aspect of it that worries you? You look almost sickly. Oh, I get it. You think I might drive you crazy, that me trying to “wake you up” means you have to go mad first? Hmm. Well, I won’t lie to you, that is what it means for some people, but that’s only if they aren’t with me. I can “wake you up” without the need for psychosis. Anyway, once you have some kind of “nervous breakdown” your brain is weakened, you don’t want that, trust me. Plus you could go off on almost any tangent at all. It can ruin your life for years and sometimes you don’t really recover. You can lose people close to you, people you love. I don’t recommend it, not for anyone and least of all you, you’re so nice! I think you're adorable! But we need some ground rules, I need to know when you’re coming for a start...
Monday to Friday is good for me, but not the evenings, OK? When my man is home I don’t have folks over - not even ones like you who aren’t one hundred percent really here, you know what I mean. You can’t come here in person either, you’re still a “sleeper,” “a zombie,” and if we really met in the flesh you might say something very odd to me, like ask me what the meaning of life is when we hardly know each other, or how I speak in a strange language - these things have really happened! Someone once stopped me talking about pizza to ask me that “did I know that blood stains don’t come off.” Weird, right? Crazy. So I can only have “awakened” people here, ones that aren’t likely to start attacking me verbally or otherwise. Anyway, I’m also an introvert, so knowing tonnes of people isn’t very appealing either. That’s why I’m just taking to just you - one on one. That makes things nice and easy. I can deal with just one extra person. And it helps that you have such a great personality, who wouldn’t enjoy spending time with you?! Do you have another question? Just one more and then I have to get on with my day, alright?
Hmm? How many people are awake? Awakened? Not many, most people sleep right through their whole lives, but that’s what fear does to people. Sleepers. Zombies. Destroying the planet and each other. But don’t worry, love. I can wake you up, nice and gentle. Just not today, crikey, is that the time? I have a birthday cake to make, a great big double chocolate monster of a thing. It’s what he wants, so I gotta bake it. See you Monday, alright? Take care now.
Oh, you’re still here? You don’t know how to leave? The front door is the usual method, but I guess you don’t arrive that way either. Well, I can end the transmission. End.