The closer you think you are, the less you’ll actually see. – J. Daniel Atlas
Some people do not understand my connection to movies. “It’s just make-believe,” they say; they make fun of me when I cry in the theatre. For me, however, for that short timespan, fiction becomes reality. In my very soul, I become the Great Observer. I may not be the Clock Winder, but I am aware of the consequences of everyone’s actions and it affects my very core, my emotional and spiritual stability. Today I watched a film that not only drove me to tears, made me literally quiver with anger, and affect my emotional and spiritual stability, but also question my sanity and concept of self. I have never seen myself as having dissociative identity disorder as I do not literally hear other voices in my head, but today… maybe I do… maybe my intermittent explosive disorder is a symptom. The big question is whether or not to commit myself. I see no part of myself as sane. Rational, yes. Sane, no. I am part psychotic, part sociopathic, part psychopathic, maybe more. I am the entire suicide squad in one body: Deadshot, Harley, Killer Croc, Diablo, Boomerang… even Enchantress, Joker. The good I have done in this world goes completely unnoticed; all of my sins are on display. I am broken, and I am destined to hurt everyone that I love. Whatever happens, she needs to be stopped. If I have to die in the process, so be it. I am a monster, a predator, and I cannot control it much longer.