Is therapy necessary? Some might believe so after reading this mess. My mind is a very scarey place to be.
I’ve been writing for a while now getting some small articles/reviews in The Buffalo News and one piece on local collegiate community involvement in the Discover WNY Magazine, also a product of The Buffalo News. For myself, this is/was, and I put an emphasis on was, a major accomplishment for me. I never thought it was possible.
Just for the record, I’m thankful for the Buffalo News, if it wasn’t for them, I wouldn’t have a job and I would have never been published. Thank you.
Now, I truly want more. What do I mean by that? I mean I want to take the next step but, I don’t know what the next step is or should be.
Maybe I should be thankful for what I have accomplished. I just can’t live with that though. It’s like being one step away from being the best brain surgeon ever and deciding to sell life insurance instead. I mean what the hell, why would you do that.
On the other hand, maybe I’m not good enough to take that next step. Maybe that’s the reason I haven’t advanced past writing fucking bar reviews. Maybe that’s my potential realized. That’s extremely depressing.
I’ve dreamed about writing a book that was actually good enough to be published. Then I think to myself that I really don’t have the imagination needed to accomplish that. The answer is right in front of my face. I guess I just refuse to settle with the reality that is my life of writing.
Or maybe, I’m my own worst enemy. You have to have a good story and you have to be able to articulate that story in such a manner that is intriguing to people. You have to make them want to continue to turn the pages. I think that’s the part where I lack on such a momentous level. Again, a very real statement and very depressing realization.
I’ve been doing this for a long time. Trying to look within, constantly self-evaluating my potential. Trying to figure out my evolutionary potential when it comes to my writing. Maybe, this is all I’m worth. This is my real potential realized. Writing auto-blogographies, spilling my thoughts onto the screen and then deciding if I want to share it with the world or not. Sometimes I do and sometimes I don’t, for whatever reason.
My mind is a dangerous place to be and I know it, hell, I’ve been in here for over 40 years. I have thoughts I would NOT dare put to record. That’s a daily struggle for me. I fight with them everyday. It’s kind of like the stories that pop up in my thoughts, they drive me batty. If I can get them out, or at least start the story, it gives me some relief.
Trouble is, after I start them and the pain goes away. Continuing the story becomes a chore. Once I’ve gotten some of it out and I’ve made room for the rest to grow and I finish in my mind. I have no continued interest in finishing it on paper or the screen I should say. That is extremely frustrating.
I worry that if my thoughts actually got out, I might be found completely fucking nuts. I truly think that’s what separates us, the sane from the clinically insane. I think we’re all a bit off kilter in more ways that any of us will dare admit to.
And therein lies the rub.
Some people can’t control their thoughts and those thoughts spill out into actions, either verbally or otherwise. Then society says, “Whoa, wait just a friggin’ minute, you can’t can’t say or do that…”, it’s deemed crazy by reasonable people who share the same ideals and morals. What the fuck does that mean anyway? It means a group of like minded people, what we refer to to as civilized society, have determined what is crazy and what is not. Oh my God, that is so anarchistic it frightens the fuck out of me. Therefore I hide my thoughts as best as I can.
I guess maybe its a degree thing. Our craziness is judge on levels. Those levels are then determined to be of certain degrees. Some people are able to get away with showing a little craziness while we, as a civilized society, either look the other way, decide we can live with it or we decide its not a danger to anyone else. Civilization at its best!
The truth about sanity and insanity is the disturbing distance between the two. The line is so this that you can see how some people might accidentally drift into the insanity lane. The rest of us are somehow able to stay in our own sane lane. Just don’t fall asleep at the wheel or get caught looking elsewhere distracting you from reality. You too can be institutionalized.
I guess that’s all I have for today… yes, I know… this could get me a nice comfortable bed with restraints, in a hospital with some great calming barbiturates.
Actually, that doesn’t sound bad at all.
Cheers, you crazy bastards!