I’m Just F*ck*ng Crazy

Sit. Still. Now inhale. A laugh comes through this happy smile.

Sometimes, I think I am just fucking crazy.

I love a woman I can’t touch, touch a woman I can’t love, and basically fret about in tawdry places just to get along. I hear stories of woe and cringe at the memory.

This was once me…

I hear their worry, and see it in myself. I see their melancholy and feel it in me. I hear their angry, vengeful words and in no time they’re spilling from my mouth. I am the blackness I see all around me.

I am also the light within the blackness. I see someone in need, and my hand automatically shoots out to help them. I read a cardboard sign made hastily by the bearded man sitting on a bucket by the corner and I know that could be me. Despite a fear of heights, I’ve climbed ladders and rappelled from tall buildings just to save another from harm. I’ve driven deep into the fires of hell just because a voice within me told me to, and could easily have died following a silent command that wanted to experience it all.

I’m a snarky bastard who loves you tremendously. I’m a fucking asshole who wants nothing but the best for us all. I’m a strong character who creaks with the onset of time. I have an impatient wit married to a settled mind. I always believe I’m right because, frankly, if I didn’t I’d change my mind. I’m stubborn, as well as stubbornly devoted to continued change.

I am a product of childhood abuse who could never harm his own, a man once so riddled with rage that grew into great love. I’ve lost so much in my life but find my cup full. I’m usually broke but am the wealthiest man I know, and enjoy living so much that I even smile through the sadness.

So, in essence I am an oxymoron, a spirit made into flesh who is the epitome of the contrasts essential to having a wonder full experience.

In a very non-New Age way I love myself. I love my assholishness as well as the compassionate me. I don’t need to smile all the time just because some guru somewhere told me to. Sometimes I can scream and rant and rave and curse everything around me. Then, I embrace it all, love the nuances of the challenges life has for me, and move on. There is always a present moment to attend to, even if that present moment is decades old.

I embrace my humanity because it is a gift. I see that wonderfully fucked-up man in the mirror as a complete and utter saint, a being so blessed with who he is that he could not imagine changing. Of course I could always be healthier, eat better, more fit and better looking, but I am perfect in what I see despite my own judgments. I sleep alone most nights, and only feel lonely in my thoughts of a great love that is too distant to embrace at the moment. I can sit still for hours and enjoy great moments of unease in the same wonderful breath.

To some, I’m just fucking crazy. To others I may just be completely sane. To me, I am perfectly normal. Insanely normal. Wonderfully normal. I wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world.

Rejoice, and embrace that spec of difference that you are, that spec of white on a darkened canvas. You give everywhere you visit the shape it so richly deserves!

I no longer fear the darkness because I know that at any time I can simply choose to see the stars that live within it. I no longer fear falling because even thought I’m going to hit the ground, I realize I was always meant to, so I might as well enjoy the ride. I no longer fear change because, frankly, change has been good for me, even when that change brought me to places where survival was far from a certainty.

I no longer fear death because I’ve died a million times already, and in doing so realized I had feared living much more. I no longer fear love because it is all that I am. No, I haven’t rejected fear to find love, rather I’ve discovered love within the fear. I’ve found that to be a wonderful awakening, one where I can love myself despite what I’ve been told are my misgivings, one where I can let myself be without much need of reform.

Does all of this make me fucking crazy? Yes, I’ll admit it does. Mostly because I like the idea that I can live so radically different from what I once saw as “sane”, exist so differently from the way I was raised, and feel so opposite of the way I once felt that I realize it takes a bit of crazy to just jump from those places. Yes, I not only hear voices in my head, but I talk to them. Often.

I hope to write even more about my insanity. I hope to fulfill my destiny, and get so muddy along the way that all you can see is my smile through the drying muck on my face. I feel a definite era of change settling in around me, of even more dedication to the path I’m clearing, of even more conversation with the voices in my head. I feel a definite release of the distractions that have kept me confined, and a change in the mindset that created those distractions to begin with.

It feels so right. So perfect. I’m still smiling. Now, I can exhale.