Solitude in the skull.

Do you ever not believe in yourself?

Do you ever do that thing when you look at yourself in the mirror, and gradually it just becomes weirder and weirder until it’s like you’re looking at a stranger?

And then you start thinking how you don’t sound like you think you sound (stupid skull reverberations), and that you don’t look like you think you look because, after all, you always see you backwards in the mirror.

And that then, how can you ever know what other people see and hear of you?

And then things you say – do you think about them first? Couldn’t they have been said by someone else inside your brain?

And all the unconscious mannerisms and gestures? How in control of your own body and mind can you ever really be?

And then the things you’ve agreed to and refused – would people be seeing a different person if the choice had gone the other way? Would you be a different person?

What about responsibilities? How can a random jumble of thoughts and synapses be responsible for anything?

How can neurons and bacteria and electrical impulses drive the lump of flesh that you carry around with you every day, making it bow to the whim of the invisible mind?

How can the chemistry make you willing to die for someone? To have likes and dislikes, fears and love?

How is it possible for humans to exist in this maelstrom of doubt and confusion – the ultimate chaos?

How?

And where did I go?