Schizophrenia journal: 8 months in remission

Imagine looking at yourself through a broken mirror. You think, mirror mirror on the wall who's the fairest of them all? Not me. I shattered you searching for truth. Searching for real, substance. I look at you, you reflect shards of my former self back to me almost comically. This makes you not real, but in a sense.the most real. You never lie, my good friend, mirror. That can be said about you and then we'll that's not why we are here is it. What can be said about me? That is our question of today.

I was only joking. I know this mirror, that it started as a joke in my mind. What if there was a secret code only I saw. A riddle of sorts surely this was a riddle. Truth be known I hope it was...a riddle or a joke. Demons playing tricks with words and messages, playing me for a fool. Yet, I know by now that can not be truth mirror....dont lie to me! Now you anger shows mirror. Yes, yes. Even though it was merely a joke I am the pun of that sour taste schizophrenia leaves in everyone mouth.
Why do sour, can it not be shockingly sweet also. Now mirror you stop flattering me.

Fine, fine. Direct me to the tarot cards I drew. You know I believe that stuff is black arts, just like talking to you is magic I don't like to be on the side of. The fool, the emporer, and the page of swords. Hmmm, I will agree to the fool. For now because my present time doesn't feel very emporerish.
Thank you mirror. Once again, you have satisfied my desire to have a deeper sense of self.
Images: Google images.