One of the spectres spoke to me; a giant disheveled wreck, he told me why he was here. His wife died, he overdosed on heroin. He's just now coming to after about a week, but still shuffles like a cripple down the hard waxed, linoleum hall. Others open up; rib cages split apart, a still beating heart, and one more non-sequitur.

A man with a motor-mouth, his thought faster than his feeble lips can cope with, explodes into my room, continuing conversations from ages ago, sputtering cryptic code as though it were on a quantum plane. He masks his pain with a constant flow of clichés. Turns out he's a washed-up rocker; a Niki Six clone. He gets along great with fellow ADHD patient, an actor, who seems to be good at everything; an omni-present knowledge rivaling God, a legacy of his training that began at age five, followed closely by the bottle at age seven. Neither of them listens to each other, carrying on two completely different conversations simultaneously.

Then there are the nurses who I swear are more messed up than most of us. One of them, an immaculately dressed middle aged man with black horn rimmed glasses and Versace boots admits openly to popping an array of pills at his disposal. Sort of like Jack Black in Jesus' Son.

Some say Jesus was bipolar and a narcoleptic. He thought he was God, they executed him, and he fell asleep under the great stress, and woke up in a cave three days later. He would've never been nailed to the cross if they had lithium back then.

But more importantly at this point, and you won't believe me now but it will all be entirely medically and scientifically verified in the following pages, is that a) I thought I was a messenger for Jesus, which is pretty weird considering I'm a devout atheist, and b) I predicted an earthquake. Now, I'm not sure if I overheard someone mention it, or if I felt it, or if the same phenomena that affects pets was working on me, or if my 3 years of geology erupted from the batholithic vaults of my brain, but I screamed at whomever would listen, "There is going to be an earthquake", until finally someone replied, "You idiot, there just was!" I believe now that this is a terribly unfortunate coincidence which led me to believe I possessed great power, or that it was the failure of the two sides of my brain to communicate with each other. But whatever it was, it led me to a fateful meeting with the police, who gave me a choice: Jail or hospital. I chose the latter.

In the days leading up to this event I had cut my hair to avoid comparisons to Jesus. I looked androgynous, like Joan of Arc, another 'messenger' who probably had bipolar. But now that I'm here, it all seems so surreal. Scanning my disconnected scribbles for evidence like Johnny Depp reliving his Adrenochrome binge in "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas". On one page, a quote from Royal Tenebaums wherein Owen Wilson stares off into the distance and says, "Wildcat was written in an obsolete vernacular...Wildcat. I have to go", followed by a dedication to the actor who also ended up in the psych ward.

Then another reference, this time from the movie Memento, "I have to believe in a world outside my own mind. I have to believe that my actions still have meaning, even if I can't remember them. I have to believe that when my eyes are closed, the world's still there. Do I believe the world's still there? Is it still out there? Yeah. We all need mirrors to remind ourselves who we are. I'm no different".

Then another: "The life I'm trying to grasp is the me who is trying to grasp it". -R.D. Laing. Then another, this time the aforementioned Jesus' Son: "All these... weirdos, and me... getting a little better every day right in the middle of 'em. I had never known... I had never even imagined for a heartbeat that... there might be a place in the world for people like us".

I'm so emotional.

I cried watching a hockey game for fuck's sake. Ryan Smyth returns to his hometown with his new team and receives a standing ovation. I cry while a commercial for memorable movies comes on; all our favourite scenes set to a moving soundtrack. Have I really been denying these feelings for so long? How many times am I going to write these exact words? Cyclical. Flashes of brilliance, moody weather, and long drawn-out overcast cashmere skies and chamomile sunshine. Stay inside. The myth of isolated genius. But "time is on my side". Plenty of room to expand "the self-contained heuristic loop of my own reasoning" -Luke Jackson.

"P. S. R. Parallel Synchronized Randomness. An interesting brain rarity and our subject for today. Two people walk in opposite directions at the same time and then they make the same decision at the same time. Then they correct it, and then they correct it, and then they correct it, and then they correct it, and then they correct it. Basically, in a mathematical world these two little guys will stay looped for the end of time. The brain is the most complex thing in the universe and its right behind the nose". -La Science des rêves.

So many quotes, so much relevance. I can hardly stand it. I'm on the outside looking in. "But even when your outside you're still actually inside aren't ya, because you're always inside your head". Fuck, I might as well just link to the memorable quotes section of the Internet Movie Database.