That's the terrible part. I swear to God I'm a madman.

Welcome To My Nightmare!

My friends, this is madness.

I am mad, I think. I am mad therefore I think. I am mad therefore I think I am.

Terrible mania, when something happens, to enquire what.

I am madness maddened! That wild madness that's only calm to comprehend itself

'Tis a mad world (my masters) and in sadnes / I travail'd madly in these dayes of madnes.

TRUE! — nervous — very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad?

He was going mad and knew it, and
somewhere deep inside a bit of sanity was screaming, struggling to fight off
the hopeless flood of black terror. It was very horrible to go mad and know
that you were going mad — to know that in a little minute you would be here
physically and yet all the real essence would be dead and drowned in the
black madness. For this was the Dark — the Dark and the Cold and the Doom.

I am living in a nightmare, from which from time to time I wake in sleep.

I can think of no greater nightmare than to lose my ability to read.

History ... is a nightmare from which I am trying to wake.

Now I'm going to have nightmares about myself.

Almost like being in the nightmare, that same feverish blur of the world slipping off its axis, but this time he was the one in control, this time he was the nightmare.