Monologue With A Madman


Monologue With A Madman

Part I:

“Are you feeling O.K.?”

“Yes, I’m fine, thank you.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I have a ‘fixed false belief’”

“That means you’re crazy!”

“Are you sure?”

“Not at all, its what my Dr. said”

“Well, if he says it, it must be true!”

“Indeed.”

Part II:

“So, you learned to trust your Dr. then, did you?”

“Yes.”

“That’s good.”

“So you don’t go believing your own silly opinions any more.”

“Absolutely, they’re all rubbish. Especially the ones I’m most convinced about.”

“Hmm. Interesting. If all your opinions are rubbish, how do you know that your opinion that they’re rubbish isn’t also rubbish?”

“I trust my Dr.”

“But then your opinion that he is trustworthy must also be rubbish, or at any rate equally unreliable.”

“True. It seems if I can’t trust myself, I can hardly trust my trust in my Dr. either. That one isn’t even in line my own senses, (especially when he’s sending a thousand volts through my poor cranium!)”

“Well, what with all the peculiar, cold, clinical, painful, invasive, non-consensual things he does to you then, that must be bloody terrifying.”

“Quite.”

Part III

“So, you’re sure you’re fine?

“Yes. My memory is still addled from the last treatment.”

“That doesn’t sound so good.”

“Well, it means that I don’t complain so much, so I won’t get shocked again so soon. So it makes me happy.”

“Ah yes. That always puts a silly smile on your face.”

“You’re right.”

“Pity about the brain damage though. Is that why you’re talking to yourself?”

“Perhaps.”

“Yes, because now you lack inner retention. Am I right?”

“Sorry, I’ve forgotten what you just said.”

“I said its because you lack inner retention. You can’t build on your own ideas within your own mind, and need to express them immediately or else they just vanish. But because of your tormented experiences, no one else can relate to what the Hell you’re on about, and they’ve all abandoned you, so you’re left chattering away to yourself like an old loon in ‘The Bin’. Isn’t that right?”

“Yes, actually that’s right.”

“Sorry, what is?”

Part IV

“So, you’re not doing too well then after all, if I remember correctly. You’re plagued by utter self-doubt, yet full of delusional conviction at the same time, and the only person you ‘trust’ is electrically and chemically raping and torturing you so badly that you’ve become a gibbering idiot, who is afraid to admit it lest he receive further unwanted ‘medical attention’.”

“You say it better than I could. I can never think of what to say when people ask me about that on the spot. I just see… flashes.”

“Flashes?”

“Yes.”

“Hmmm. O.K.”

“So basically you’re extremely scared of your Dr., but so afraid your afraid even to say it; nay, you’re so afraid that you’re afraid to even admit your fear to yourself, or outwardly express your normal distress signals. Instead they appear in ‘flashes’ inside your own head.”

“No that’s not true.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“But you admit you’re delusional.”

“Yes.”

“So perhaps you really are afraid.”

“Don’t say that.”

“Why?”

“Please don’t harm me.”

“Do you feel that expressing your fear will be interpreted as an act of aggression?”

“Yes.”

“Ah. Well, that is an act of aggression just saying so. What a hypocrite.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh you’re going to be sorry.”


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