This is fiction. This is fact. I’d hide from it if I could or should but that wouldn’t be wise, nor lead to a cure, at the very least my demise. I cannot believe that it was just an act – who played me and who played them, my friends?
Where do I live? That’s a trick thought, I’m certain. I stay in the ward on many an occasion, in a hospital close by. They worry though they don’t say much, but I can see the fear in their eyes. I cannot but stop and swear, and I see visions everywhere. Whenever I open my mouth, it all comes out strange. It’s as though I’m in a story all my own, my very own tale. But it’s my imagination, so get out.
I spend most of my time in conversation. There are people who understand me. They love to talk and together we are happy. As happy as we can be, though they outstay their welcome not infrequently. They are little green men, harmless but traveling in packs. Sometimes I wish I could send them all back.
They’re not what I ordered but swear words are curse words, and they must have got it wrong, when you’re replacing each word that spits from your mouth with “alien”. How very uncouth!
Every few seconds a curse word. I curse so often its rude to keep you waiting for real words. And, of course, I must leave it to your imagination, what was intended and what was not. There are words we shouldn’t speak. I say them anyway. Come and hide me quick, before the aliens choose to stay.
I swear when I don’t realize. I swear instead of speak. That mother-alien alien, why does he keep me here? I’m not sick. I have a body full of aliens – I’m playing host for a few weeks. These aliens are real. They all know me.
The fact is I’m sick. The fiction is that I’m not. The truth is that I can afford to be ill but I don’t want to watch. The lie is that I will get better. I put money in the mother-alien jar. One day somebody will be rich and all because of me... You alien-ing alien! How dare you spend my jar!
Aliens are there when I look in the mirror. They’re staring back at me from the other side. I’m not alone but I am surprized. All hell fury and angel salvation be damned – it’s aliens that are everywhere and I can’t shut my mouth. I love a tame tale and mine is so normal. I think. But with the normal you have aliens and I.
I sit in a chair, in a hospital ward. This world is for crazies and so is this ward. Today I see aliens but tomorrow it may be worse. I swing my legs without a care, eat the food that they bring there. I talk and I talk. And I talk some more. The entertainment when you have a disorder like mine is always top notch. Draw all the blinds, the morning is harsh. I know I have twelve hours now to endure before I can rest and be cured. Each day brings a new surprize to startle and astonish. Make new my life. Forget the swear jar I would admonish. Don’t caution me, every word I speak that should not be said is replaced with alien, like all of the ones inside my head.
Some days they are green, harmless or obscene, other nights I wake up in fright and in scream, swearing to my next of kin and all others still. Help me please. Save me sweet. I can’t take any more of this. It will do my head in if I see anymore of you. But the voices are endless and I cannot choose.
I sleep in fits most nights and wake up late because being awake is hard. It makes me restless. The aliens are there from eight to eleven and the drugs don’t work all that well, not all the time even. And every one seems insulted, when I speak and it was just gibberish. Don’t alien with me. I can’t help that I swear. I can’t help that I dare. Nor that I see little green aliens every alien-ing where.
It’s difficult to be me most days even when I am serene it’s only a small break. They always come back and they run me amuck because this body plays host to other worlds and other kinds of men, they are aliens, the aliens in me. Inside of my mind, inside of my body – it’s spooky their habits and I don’t want none of it.
They take it all out of me. Make me swoon, make me scream and, just now, fall asleep. People stare. But people beware. The aliens are everywhere. And they don’t take kindly to medicine, psycho-logic and me. The psychiatrist tries but they only speak louder, they despise his diagnosis and help, much is the aid and the progress he desires. And as much as I want progress, too, I feel stuck in this abyss, not a friendly hand to pull me out. How do I rid my mind of them, these aliens, when it is they who found me? They seek me out and – all I can say is no, but maybe that means yes to somebody? How can I talk to someone like that?! How do you fight when it’s all in your mind? It’s all in my mind. It can’t be my mind. The doctor would have said if it were just me. And if I’m playing host to imaginary men then, surely, it’s bed time for them.
Please leave me alone you alien-ing aliens, I’ve no time for you. It’s time you were gone, for this life is through. Please exit from the side door, return to wherever it is you have come from. You’ve done enough damage here to last me a life time of medical care. I’m kicking you out. Don’t give me a pout. It won’t work. You’ve shirked duties enough and I know if you stay then I’ll never get out. I can’t stay insane, it shouldn’t be done. Please let me out. If you don’t leave then maybe I will. I’ll exit the door that’s attached to my mind. Go to heaven or hell and give you this forsaken body of mine. It’s no use to me, with faulty speech and imaginary men all dressed in scaly green skin. I’ll leave you tomorrow, right after I’ve had a good sleep. I’ve got the pills ready to take when I need. It’s a blessed epiphany when I know I can end it, even if they don’t let me, I’m through. So goodbye to aliens. Goodbye to real men. And goodbye to strange thoughts that don’t make any sense. Swear words and everything else. I’ll not miss the lot. So goodbye to me. Lest I be forgot, forsooth and dead, my grave shall be my bed. I will visit again if I am ever back this way, my lovely green friends.