A Normal Being
As I sit, writing down my racing thoughts, I can’t help but get one out of my head:
Crazy…crazy…mental problems…am I insane?
Insane. What does that even mean? What sort of label have I been placed upon myself?
I thought I was, no one believed me. I was crazy they say, crazy.
But what’s the difference between crazy and insane? One major and one minor? If so…
It doesn’t matter if I’m one or the other…why?
But they didn’t believe me, I was living in a dark, twisted fantasy that I couldn’t control,
I didn’t know who I was— I still don’t know.
But when someone realizes it, that the person in the back of the room that doesn’t talk or speak to anyone,
That is a loner, an outcast,
When you realize they’re dangerous…and that person is you. What does it all mean?
The insanity; it’s become real now, it has no faults or limitations, it’s permanent.
You just can’t shake something like insanity off, it’s a leech, thriving on your demise.
I didn’t bring this on myself, and if I did, I would like to apologize…
To everyone out there that has felt my wrath, the anger that bore deep within me that I cannot control…
Why have I been damned like this? Why have I been damned to this state of mind with no breathing room,
When did the words “fairly normal” have no meaning next to me? When did I become…
I don’t know what I am, and I don’t know what all of this insanity and mental stability means,
But I do know that now…now…
I am not a normal being.