DRAFT: This module has unpublished changes.

5/11/19

What Is Crazy?

Crazy is when you feel like white trash for saying what you believe in.  I should know- I have experience in this.  Last night I asked a sincere question to the pharmacist at the imaginary twin CVS next to the real one at Clark and Division- you know, the one in the alley behind the garbage bins?  If I could quote the location, I would call it, Harry Potter Style.  Just like my backpack that is labeled- Hot Style.  I got it on Amazon with the gift card I was given by the lady who I am related to who I was told by my angel best friend used to be Mona Lisa.  At family gatherings she sits with her arms folded in front of her and smiles at me like she is in some type of limbo.

Have I ever told you that one day I will be in charge of limbo?  I know I already told you about it- when you die, you walk through it and stay there until it is decided where you go- heaven or hell.  I have had a dream before where I was there and the girl from my neighborhood that I fear most because she is a bad alien, and I were standing there next to a sign that was in a foreign language (French?>) and it felt liked I belonged.  I bet if you told that to the people I went to high school with they would be pissed because they know that they are the reason that I felt like I didn’t belong, had a mental break down, and came back again to the real world after something just as tragic happened to one of them.  You know just to make it fair.

Anyways, back to the imaginary CVS- sometimes I see crazy people sitting at that corner, sitting on their butts, without a care in the world.  The phobia thing in me (says a police officer near me, too-) said to myself that I would never do that because I would get glass stuck in my butt.  That corner was littered with glass, as if someone had a mystical fit, because they saw an angel and at the same time the sane thing in them died because they knew the reason the angel was there; and threw a bunch of glass bottles all over the place, like an inpatient misfit infant.  The guy on the corner, however, knew what he was doing.  He was with the guy at the nursing home that was in charge of it (and hell- thanks to a magical night that seven people now regret), so that he knew where he was in time and place and in heaven and hell, all at the same time- like he was on the ride at carnivals where you steer the wheel and it is up to you how dizzy you get.  He looked like he was in charge, even though he was on the other side of that spectrum.

Speaking of crazy- I was at the ER two nights ago for the eighth time this year.  If my mom ever found out she would be mad- and she kind of knows I do that stuff now but doesn’t ask about it because the kid that goes to the place where she works won’t let her know that he admires me and at the same time hates me.  He wants me- as a mother, and this is why he hates me and loves me at the same time.  So, I was in the ER alone with doctors and I let one of them see the hoar thing in me while I kept repeating words that showed that I was mad at me mom.  And the kid in the back of the ER could see/hear me because he goes beyond the tangent with me, as well as many other men who could be with me, and that is why the guy from the nursing home gives it to them.  So that I can experience love and save the world with whatever comes with it.  Okay, maybe I am being a bit proud, a bit too sure of myself, a bit crazy, but all I know is that when the kid in the back of the ER, a number of nights ago, placed the Tylenol in my hand when we were all alone, I was hooked. 

I don’t understand the crazy thing in guys who get jealous, but at the same time, I admire it.  I think it is crazy when a guy almost loses it and starts hating another, because of me.  Maybe this is why I am damned, in a way, because I provoke hate, and maybe also I am loved by God because I am loved, at the same time.

When someone goes crazy, they lose their minds.  Reality is lost among the seams, and all the person wants to do is justify what caused him to be angry.  Being crazy means that people don’t believe you.  It means that only those that love you will stand next to you in a time of peril.  I think I like it when guys go crazy about me, and it makes me wonder how I look to them when they see the vulnerability in me when I feel like no one is behind me and I am screwed, until the apparent circumstances make me move on to something else.  When you are crazy you want to lose the craziness, and when you lose the craziness, you feel like a part of you is taken, is left for the next crazy person.  Or, more accurately, feeling.

DRAFT: This module has unpublished changes.