A Little Slice of Crazy

This is me giving momentary voice to my own personal brand of crazy today…

Therapist: So how are we feeling today?

Me: Pretty fucking crazy, you?

T: Well, you know I’m not what we’re here to talk about. Tell me more about this crazy.

Me: Well, let’s see. I feel like I am going a million miles an hour and having to wait for the rest of the world to catch up is making me slightly homicidal. My mind is full of color and words and racing thoughts and wishes. But mostly I think my crazy is coming from the fact that I’m realizing that I’ve spent the past many years living with one foot on the throat of my true voice and the other on the accelerator. Racing to suffocate myself. Hence, the pretty fucking crazy.

T: How about you tell me about how this feeling makes you feel?

Me: How does it make me feel? How do you think it makes me feel? CRAZY! It’s one of those words, like fuck, that can be used in a thousand different contexts. Like waking from a coma and finding out that you could have woken up at any time, but didn’t know that you could. So you’ve spent all this time withering away in this stupid hospital. Waiting. And then you finally wake up and you’re filled with all this crazy because you wasted all this time. Waiting. And now there’s so much to see and do and make up for, but you have to do it all set to this predetermined pace that makes sense to the rest of the world. And all that does is make the pretty fucking crazy person, pretty fucking mad.

T: I see. So what you’re really saying then is that you’re feeling anger?

Me: Hell yes I’m angry! I’m angry and put out and fed up. Angry that there are rules to be followed. Put out that no one else took a big fucking shovel to my head to wake me up sooner. Fed up with accepting standing still.

T: Well, I think we’ve made good progress today. How are you feeling now?

Me: Still fucking crazy, you?