It's a little bit funny.

Much Madness is divinest Sense -

To a discerning Eye-

Much Sense - the starkest Madness

-Emily Dickinson

The clock on the wall said it was 2:55; it had been saying that for five days now. I could have fixed it, but it would never have been right, and a stopped clock is better than a slow one, because twice a day the stopped one is right.

It taunted me during my relapse; it said to me, "It's better to be insane and sane than sane and insane." They can fix you if your not broken, and they can't fix you if you are. Or something like that, I've been scribbling in my journal. My relapse is over, I'm back to myself again, I'm OK again, and I can breath again.

Where did it start? Lets see, 10 months ago, almost, just short 10 months by a few days. I had a relapse, I don't remember exactly how it happened just that I wasn't strong enough anymore, I gave in, I let go. He taunted me from the covers of newspapers across the world.

I walked into the supermarket; he stared back at me from the cover of the Gotham Gazette, from Gotham Daily, from The Gotham Press, from Starr and The Globe. His name plastered across the nation, the world, The Joker. I reached for the paper, my small hand quivered, my fingers nearly touching the paper, moved across the semblance of his smile, I followed his red lips and traced his face. My hand withdraws; I move up and put my items on the check out counter. I don't dare open the paper; I don't dare read his name.

"What happened to us?" I whisper.

"What?" The clerk asks me.

"Nothing." I mutter, "How much was it?"

When the hate is gone the love is gone.

I jog home as it's getting dark and the sky is purple, it mocks me. The world laughs at me. The circus is in town. Half off white cream make-up. The sky is always purple. I glance behind me a hundred times a day because I hear it, I hear you.

The world giggles.

I sit down on the worn green sofa and flick on the TV, Natural Born killers on channel 5, Bonnie and Clyde channel 7, Fight Club channel 11, Pulp Fiction channel 13, channel 4 and channel 2 are news.

"Tyler?" Marla.

"Mickey?" Mallory.

"Clyde?" Bonnie.

"The Joker is still on the loose, he ravages the city, the death count rises-"


I took down all our pictures, I put away your letters. I go to bed, I sleep nicely, after all why shouldn't I? I'm a stand up citizen now, I'm reformed, I'm better. I've just had a relapse.

Where are you Puddin'?

"You're an enabler." Dr. Queue tells me.

I sat in the big soft blue armchair with my hands folded in my lap and my hair in a high ponytail, I smile and listen, "An enabler?"

"Yes." He leans on his elbows on the desk, he's holding a pencil that he never uses, "You're making the problem worse without realizing it Harleen." He uses my name too much.

I nod, "His?"

"Harleen, dear," he looks sympathetic, "to put to bluntly, your feeding his monsters. You make each other worse, he will never get better as long as you go on being Harley. The best thing for everyone, Harleen," he takes my hand in a friendly manner, "the best thing is for you to get better. You have a bright future, your young and beautiful and intelligent."

"I know your right, I do. Your right." I smile.

"Good, you'll do much better away from him. I'm sure."

"I know, I just- sometimes I- I love him."

He looks serious, "You're a grown woman Harleen, you need to start making the right choices for your life. You know how I feel."

I nod. "Thank you." I say before I get up and go. He doesn't understand. It's not that easy, not when it's me, it's not him, it's not mistah J, it's me. It's just a relapse, it'll pass. I try and believe I'll stay this way though. During relapses I'm euphoric, I'm always calm and collected, I'm together. The calm before the storm, I think they call it.

"Mistah J?" I sit up in bed sweating, I toss off my bed sheets, I'm in his ICP t-shirt and his smiley face boxers. I'm over him, we broke up, I tell them all, but I still sleep in his clothes? Just because they are comfortable. I tell them, I tell myself.

"Puddin'?" I whisper your name in the dark, oh Mistah J, why did you leave your little Harleykins, you never call me that anymore. You haven't called me your Harley girl, pumpkin pie, baby darling, in ages. How long has it been since I heard your voice? So long ago, I cradled the receiver of the phone to my ear and you told me jokes all night. I don't remember one of those jokes, but I'll never forget your voice, your laughter. Why don't you laugh like that anymore? Oh Puddin', I fell in love with you! Can't you see, no one else? It was you.

I wonder down the long dark halls of the Asylum, I grope the walls in the pitch-black darkness; I stumble against the cold concrete. I hear your laughter echo faintly in the dark, I feel your hand on my shoulder and I spin around to see you're gone. I feel your fingers in my hair, I look and you're not near. I feel your breath on my neck; I reach for you and your so far away. I surrender to you in my dreams, your cruel in them as you were in my reality, I surrender to see you. It doesn't hurt. It doesn't hurt at all.

I write articles for the Gotham Gazette, I wear my hair down to my shoulders and I have glasses again now. No one really recognizes me, some people say, "Hey, didn't you used to be Harley Quinn?"

I mutter, "No, not me." And I slip away from them.

"Yeah, it was you wasn't it?"

"No, no sorry." I say.

"What happened to you? Did you really know him? What was he like," they whisper this part, "The Joker?"

I try and evade them, get into the elevator, they just follow me, "Do you hate him? Do you love him? Are you free Saturday night?"

Why aren't you here to pry open the elevator and shove them down the open doors, and I hear you almost, "Going down." You laugh widely.

But no, your not there, I force out an answer, "I'm done with him. I cleaned up my act." I talk lowly.

They don't understand, I love to hate you, I hate to love you, I love to love you, I hate to hate you.

I think what Doctor Queue told me, I feed the problem. I imagine myself in Arkham Asylum, it's dimly lit, I skip past the cells in a red dress carrying a file full of goodies, I'm on my way to visit Dr. Leland's office.

I see the Big Bad wolf smile.

"Well, I guess I could share some of the goodies in my file with you mistah Wolf. My what a big smile you have mistah wolf!"

"All the better to laugh at you with my dear." You grin.

Ding. My floor, I hurry away from that person and to my little office.

You loved me, I know you loved me. Didn't you? It doesn't matter anyway, I flirt with every man I see. I smile. I giggle. I flip my hair, they flatter me. They annoy me. Where are you to stab them to death?

Finally I feel the relapse ending, I'm not sure why or even how, maybe I have nothing left. Fight Club's on again, no, I just bought it and I play it non-stop.

"It's not until you've lost everything that you're free to do anything." Tyler says.

Tyler, are you Tyler mistah J? I'm Marla, you should be Tyler.

I lie in bed at 2:55 a.m. Its really later than that, I know because I can see light creeping in through the blinds on my window, it's nearing dawn now. The relapse is ending, so where are you? That's what I'm asking myself right now. I know I'm Harley Quinn, there's just no use pretending or denying it. I know. It's in my blood, it pumps through my veins, I am Harley Quinn with or without you. I think.

I know who I am, I want to find you, to seek you out, to walk over to you and say, "So tell me, Puddin', who are you?"

And if you tell me, "I'm the Joker." I'm going to leap into your arms and saying, "I knew it! I knew it!"

I unwrap a piece of grape bubble gum very carefully and pop the thick square wad into my mouth, tomorrow I'll quit my job and put my hair up in pig tails, then I just wait for you to call.

Moulin Rouge plays in the background, I can only think one thought, I say it aloud to myself, "It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside. I'm not one of those who can easily hideā€¦" I hum the rest.

It's a little bit funny, huh Mistah J? I relapse into sanity. Sanity is my illness, you're my medicine. Save me from Harleen. I love you Mistah J, do you miss being called that by me? No one else can ever be like me, just don't forget it, no one else can be Harley Quinn. They will never wait for you, they will forsake you. I wait not so much because I have to, but because I am Harley Quinn.

It's a little bit funny I think, you don't have to love me, as long as I'm your Harley Quinn. I'll be Harley with or without you, I see that now, but who'll feed the big bad wolf without me.

I laugh, it doesn't matter. I close my eyes.

I see you smile.