Domenica, 06 Giugno, 2004 | Posted by Marie Sven Gerkin at 19:58

The world is made up of crazy people. I'm sure of it. I know as I work in a crazy place. They have given me a job here in this mad house, to see if I can help people. I have told them I will have no effect. I can't help anyone. Not after what I have seen and what I have heard.

But they still placed me here.

Okay, so what's crazy? Most people will probably think it's someone who has lost their marbles. It's not. We don't really have marbles, so how can we lose them? That would indicate and inability to think straight. I have to tell you everyone in this place thinks straight. They know why they are here. Julia keeps telling me that she has an itch. She has had an itch for 30 years. It's just above her knee. She knows this, she is not crazy.

The dictionary says crazy means:

Possessed by enthusiasm or excitement: The crowd at the game went crazy.
Immoderately fond; infatuated: was crazy about boys.
Intensely involved or preoccupied: is crazy about cars and racing.
Foolish or impractical; senseless: a crazy scheme for making quick money.

This all says to me someone with an intensity for life. That's me. My intensity for life has become so great that I can see the blood on my hands. It's there every morning. I try to hide it, but can't. It just won't wash off. I wash and wash most days up to 100 times a day, but it just won't go away.

I don't want the other crazy people to see this, so I wear gloves all the time. It makes it very hard to eat and wiping your bum can prove to be a real nightmare. But there you have it. I have tried everything.

It's even hard to type this with gloves. It takes a long time to make every entry, and those crazy people in this place just won't let me be. I can feel my hands itching. I need to wash my hands. I need to stop.