I checked myself into rehab at approximately 4:00 pm. It was an attempt to finally, under a doctors care, to push the limits of the mind, to chalk up experience, this could be my only chance. I thought. But I never felt the ache of the broken hearted. I have never seen tragedy up-close. I couldn’t imagine the cries of the desperate.
I was living a Disney fantasy. With one exception. I had no authenticity. If only I could feel what the insane felt, if only I could conceptualize the pressure of the insane. From now on, treat me as the “prince of the insane.”
However, the question that I should have asked, in the chase, would I still get the princess at the end? The Chaser is never alone, especially with the voices that started to show. The sounds were muffled and in a language I couldn’t place. I think I pushed myself too far.
It was Disney. It was a padded room, which included a pharmacopoeia of drugs. And because of these drugs, the addiction was set.
THE CHASER'S MANIFESTO 