My Time

Everything that I have been avoiding seems to be pushing at the back of my mind. Softly, almost too gentle to feel, but it is there. A whisper in my ear or a breeze on my neck, I can feel the sensation of memories coming back. Memories I purposely hid away.

It's these things, the things that I forget but I feel I should remember, that worry me. They poke and prod me with great interest. What it comes down to is, I think that I am probably a little bit mad. I think my mind is still ticking away, but my brain is not able to handle the data. I feel calm some days, but it is sheeted by a slight anxiety. I fear for myself, I fear for the people around me. Is there an escape, or this a complex puzzle in which there is no escape, only new levels to navigate.

When I say "this", I am talking about my sanity. Or, more properly, my insanity. One day, I may break and fall off the face of the planet. No one would really see it coming, they think my words are dramatic and pessimistic. I can see it coming, me trying to escape the boundaries of the puzzle by running away from one city to the next.

I wish that I was not crazy. Even though I have never had tests, it's the instinct that tells me I am not right in the head. It's the lack of proper emotion at times

It's the way I get mad, furious, over the small things. The way I cannot cry over the big things.

This is what makes me crazy. It is when I write, or type or say aloud, these things, that makes me sane.