When faced with failing therapies, a woman is left with her warped mind.

It seems easy. Recalling an image, knowing that not all images are reality. You can remember a first kiss or heartbreak or the thrill of driving for the first time. But what happens when reality and imagination merge? It can be a simple as thinking a dream is real. At least, that's what they tell me. 

They say I am impressionable. My brain takes in my stimuli, what I read and learn and see, and re-engineers relationships, images, and situations so that I perceive fiction as reality. That, at least, is their best explanation. But I reject the premise out right. 

Over the years its been an endless monotony of doctors and therapies. The diagnoses differ but it's all the same. An unflappable belief in only what is seen and proven with an unmovable resistance to accept anything unknown.  You see, we see connections to something... otherworldly and label it as mental illness. But do we ever stop to ask, is it possible that we are wrong? No, and the answer for why is really quite simple. We don't do this because of the damage caused when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. The collateral damage makes us squirm and itch with questions. Humans have never really liked ambiguity.

By no means do I mean to say that mental illness doesn't exist. I merely pose a question because... well with all the poking and prodding, my "delusions"  don't release. What if my abnormal thoughts aren't abnormal brain waves or a neurochemical imbalance and instead are a blessing, a sight to something beyond our limited vision and comprehension. 

I suppose you could discredit my thoughts. Mental illness carries a stigma that often causes this. As if our thoughts and ideas string out into the galaxy, a tapestry that spans the universe and timeline. Asterisks mark those that come from a "diseased mind." But does that hold any water? Just because of a label in a society, one person's thoughts and ideas should carry less weight than another? Does the construct of sanity or lack there of make abstract thought less logical?

... I suppose some would say so. That my "inability to distinguish between imagination and reality" could warp my thought processes is not impossible...

But then again... 

Here I am, musing to myself. The musing of a disturbed woman, they would say undoubtedly. But for me... everything is just becoming a faded memory. 

The End

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