The nice men in the clean white coats are coming today.
I know it.
I skinned a girl and left her body to rot.
My neighbors surely must’ve said something by now.
But then again I lost my sense of smell.
So it’s a distinct possibility that this girl’s corpse is incapable of producing an odor.
Because the nice clean men with their clean white coats haven’t come yet.
Am I crazy? They were supposed to be here by now.
Of course I’m crazy because I think I’m crazy but the clean white men in the nice white coats haven’t come yet.
And if I think I’m crazy but they haven’t told me I’m crazy then I’m not crazy.
But if they haven’t told me I’m not crazy, then I’m not crazy.
But I thought I was crazy when I really wasn’t so I must be crazy to think I am.
Where are the nicely coated nice white men?
I need them to take me away to prove I’m not crazy.
Because if they take me away then I must be crazy.
But I know I’m crazy so I’m not. Unless they don’t come which means I am.
Maybe the girl I skinned never even existed? Maybe she only existed in my mind.
Well, then you know there’s only one solution: I have to kill more people. Or rather start killing people if she never was a person to be killed.
I have to kill more people to have the nice young men in the bright white coats to come get me.
I have to kill more people to prove I’m not crazy.
But in my defense I have no choice but to kill people – afterall, I’m crazy.
Where are the nice bright men in the bright fresh coats?
How do I know the men are nice, or clean, or white, or young, or bright?
Or that their coats are clean, or white, or bright, or fresh? Or that they’re men?
People have always told me that they were.
But what if these people were lying? Or in my head?
I am crazy after-all.
What if my mind told me to wait for nice smiling men in fresh new coats so I would always be crazy?
And why would the men be smiling and their coats be new? Did my mind make them that way so I would want them to come so I would never meet the runner of the Asylum so I would always wait and always be crazy?
But why would my mind want me to be crazy?
Because it’s crazy?
What if the girl I skinned was the real runner of the Asylum?
It makes sense.
Because right before I cracked her skull open she yelled at me, “you’re crazy.”