What is madness anyways other than somebody else’s misconceptions of what they believe to be an ideal way. An ideal way of thinking, being, dressing, existing. There is torture beyond your own conceivable mind if you entertain the polluted thoughts of another. Let them lead themselves down their own path of destruction.  For example how many chances does one person get before you finally pull the plug? What if you always thought there was slimy about their existence but you let it go out of fear of not fitting in. All the things that you deflected just to try and get friends. I did that. Been there.  I was never a big drinker. A few here and there when the mood sees fit but when I take to blanking out again I know that this is a situation clearly waiting to spin out of control.

Did you find yourself giving way too many side eyes lately then questioning whether or not the side eyes were warranted in the first place. I always feel those spidey senses tingling. Which sucks when it comes to people who I think are super rad. Which then poses another questions. If you end up making a connection with somebody you care about but they are running head on with a train at epic speeds you warn them? I mean if the person they were becoming close with is just a terrible human being do you warn your new friend or let them experience if for themselves? Depending on the situation the person I don’t like I never want to be in a circle with again. Life is short which is why I take a hard stance. Too often I just try to forgive and forget. I guess for my own sanity I forgive because it is good to let your heart rest. I just don’t allow the person another chance to get close to me game over enough said.

When you don’t run in social circles though you become this odd man out. I could see how it could be bothersome for some but for me I feel like I am already on borrowed time so I am trying to make up for the life wasted that I lived. I love to read and write and when time permits play music. The minutes truly go faster though the holder you get and I find death is something that I fear constantly. I have so many lives that are under this roof that you almost have to be prepared for something to happen one day. Every so often my thoughts turn to me, then to others and how it is we all rush to something we have no idea what it is for anyways. We all have our own beliefs and values and things that make us unique. It is terrifying to know that the acts of history that we read about in books if we dare to read them are unfolding on our streets like wildfire quickly encompassing everything and all things in its path.  If I start thinking too much along those lines then I get really panicky and sick. Anybody can go at any time for any reason and it is up to the living to handle it as best that we can. 

I never want to stop hearing about those that are pained about losing a loved one. Maybe that is where madness truly forms. The idea that an existence we once cherished is now gone should make make you want to hold onto the living and never let go, but it doesn’t. Some of us are pained at so many different levels and others move on faster than the dirt covering the hole. Every life that has touched me in a loving way I think of from time to time. I don’t know where it comes from but an appreciation for spending that small piece of time with me. I wonder if they were waiting for me on the other side urging me to come back and be the mother that I always wanted to be. Sometimes I can here them cheering from the other side (laughing too as I am a natural born klutz). Where my brain has chosen to go feels so much better than the existence I was living. You can’t be ridiculed if you don’t do anything to warrant it and most importantly I no longer give a f*ck about the opinion of those that I don’t care about…truly.

I love humans and the potential that comes with each existence.  Whether or not we connect is all up to you.  You think it would be easy to be a good human but it growing harder to be nowadays. In the book “How to Hepburn” she talked about finding yourself the most interesting. I never really knew how that could be possible without being conceited. It became easier to understand when I thought about all the things I truly loved.  What I loved from what I could remember was being a girl. Dressing, accessorizing, that polished finished look from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. I always loved to dress up till I was made to believe that only girls of a certain way dressed like that. I let that evil thinking storm over me like a big old thunder cloud. Anytime I would dress up there would be this loud clap of a reminder of just why I shouldn’t want to be. I like to think of it as reliving or maybe recreating my childhood. I want to love because loving feels good and not because somebody else feels spited along the way.