One-two, buckle my shoe ... Thump, slam, crash. Scream out loud. There it goes again, and again, yet again. Three-four, knock at the door ... scream out loud. The knocking is inside my head, in the space between the front of my skull and between my ears. It is there that the pinball machine resides.
The thing about mental illness, though, is it carries a sting in the tail. People seem to think that if someone has a mental illness, it is as a result of some kind of weakness. Physical illness is unfortunate, but mental illness seems to be perceived around the world as of their own making, and therefore they must be weak to have ended up ill in the first place, and weak for being trapped in the illness.