(cont.) “For most of my life I moved as much as I could. I tried different cities and countries, I went north and south, I lived in squalor and opulence.”
“I convinced myself that the malleable quality of the landscape was merely an illusion, a result of flying past at such high speeds that everything becomes a blur.”
“What I learned is that this kind of restlessness — this refusal to stay in one place — is another kind of addiction. I don’t think I ever slept for more than a few hours at a time, either, which is another way of blurring a reality we don’t want to acknowledge.”
“In some ways it’s worse than a chemical addiction, because it’s not like you can check yourself into rehab. What would you tell them? ‘Oh I’ve seen some things that I can’t unsee and it’s making me crazy?'”
“I felt like my mind was filled with the thoughts of an entire society, which is not exactly a harmonious inner dialogue, to say the least. It got to the point where I was afraid to open my mouth, and so I pretended that I couldn’t even talk. It wasn’t really a choice, but what seemed like an act of survival; it was the only way life seemed viable to me. I couldn’t talk to anyone because I was petrified of what I might say.”
“But I didn’t want to live completely alone, either, like off the grid in some cabin somewhere in the mountains or the desert. I had to be near people but without ever engaging with them. Which is hard but maybe not as hard as you might think, assuming you’re in a reasonably big city. I also developed this theory that the only time of day when I was really safe — by which I mean I could wander around without this fear that I was about to be interrogated — was during the hour or so after sunrise, when — except for the birds — most of the world is asleep and the light offered a form of camouflage. In theory. The tree branches were moving, but that was the least of my problems.”
“Then there was this one morning when I felt more alone than I ever had. I wasn’t frightened, I felt relieved. I thought I had escaped. Or at least I did until I looked over to my right and saw the wavering shadow that confirmed everything. I still don’t remember how I ended up here, but it doesn’t matter. The doubt vanished, which meant I could finally rest.”
Pictures taken on the Jesus Green (Cambridge, UK) on May 4, 2016. Text excerpted from The #Gods Project (Section 2: Interviews with the Institutionalized).Â
