A diary of a Nigerian Mad Woman 2
Another very beautiful day, I had already been to the garage to say hello to the conductors. They seemed harsh today, almost didn’t notice me. I had to walk by 6 times to get their attention.
My mall was stocked up as usual, someone donated a large quantity of spaghetti and turkey. I even got a new dress from there, a long white sheet with splashes of tomatoes to make it colorful. I wrapped the cloth around my body, from my chest to my buttocks; this time I didn’t consider the men at the car wash.
On my way to get my afternoon nap, someone called me a mad woman. Which was weird because if I was a mad woman I wouldn’t know that I’m mad, right?
One of the voices in my head said,
“you know that there’s a probability that you might be mad”
Another voice said,
“you know that you would have to go to a psychiatric hospital if you were mad”
The third voice said
“so that means that you are not mad. A mad woman wouldn’t know this”
I know that I am mad, which means that I am not mad. I know that it’s crazy that I am having conversations with voices in my head, so I can’t be mad.
I decided to laugh at a passing woman just to prove that I know what I am doing, which makes me an ‘unmad’ woman.
I decided to chase a small boy with a stick, the boy ran to his mother crying and I laughed so hard. That’s some crazy mad woman move, it was so funny. I’m acting like a mad woman and I know that I’m acting like a mad woman so I’m not a mad woman.
The woman that called me mad must be mad to think that I am mad.
There’s no way that I’m mad. She’s the mad one, she’s a hater and I’m going to sleep beside the gutter. I want to see how all these mad people would cross this gutter now.
My mall was stocked up as usual, someone donated a large quantity of spaghetti and turkey. I even got a new dress from there, a long white sheet with splashes of tomatoes to make it colorful. I wrapped the cloth around my body, from my chest to my buttocks; this time I didn’t consider the men at the car wash.
On my way to get my afternoon nap, someone called me a mad woman. Which was weird because if I was a mad woman I wouldn’t know that I’m mad, right?
One of the voices in my head said,
“you know that there’s a probability that you might be mad”
Another voice said,
“you know that you would have to go to a psychiatric hospital if you were mad”
The third voice said
“so that means that you are not mad. A mad woman wouldn’t know this”
I know that I am mad, which means that I am not mad. I know that it’s crazy that I am having conversations with voices in my head, so I can’t be mad.
I decided to laugh at a passing woman just to prove that I know what I am doing, which makes me an ‘unmad’ woman.
I decided to chase a small boy with a stick, the boy ran to his mother crying and I laughed so hard. That’s some crazy mad woman move, it was so funny. I’m acting like a mad woman and I know that I’m acting like a mad woman so I’m not a mad woman.
The woman that called me mad must be mad to think that I am mad.
There’s no way that I’m mad. She’s the mad one, she’s a hater and I’m going to sleep beside the gutter. I want to see how all these mad people would cross this gutter now.
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