picture in my mind

There are nights I just want to sleep and not wake up. For a hundred years or something.

I keep thinking back to the night when Eunice and me had dinner and I was complaining to her about how I seemingly lack control over my own actions; and she described how we all probably have insanity somewhere inside us, strapped down, so that our sensible selves are usually the masters of our fate. I simply let insanity drive for a split second; the horror.

What I have for comfort now are only words like this:

Do you think that the things people make fools of themselves about are any less real and true than the things they behave sensibly about? They are more true: they are the only things that are true. ~ Candida (1898), George Bernard Shaw

Still, I'd choose sanity if I could.