The insanity didn’t just run in my family. It had ambled through, taking time to know each of us personally. My brother with his schizophrenia, my mother with her addictions, and I the bipolar middle child completed a holy trinity
“Who says he’s seeing this place the way we’re seeing it? Humans see what they want to see.” Not me though. I see things in neat black-and-white rows. Gone are the days when bibliophiles settled with us in tidy nooks
Look at you, an innocent face concealing the slyness within! Do you really feel nothing as you bite into your marmalade smeared bread with relish, while the wolf howls at the full moon, bloodied and hacked by their dull blades.