I am not more out of my mind than anyone else is. Or maybe I am. Maybe I’m as crazy as they come. Or maybe the saying is true, that crazy people never know they’re crazy, and more as a side note, stupid people never assume they’re stupid either.
No, they think they’re smart.
Maybe the fact that I have the ability to see means I am smarter than I assume. In which case, maybe I’m not so crazy. Maybe I have needs or maybe I have a heart that broke, or maybe I’m tired, or frustrated, or maybe I’ve tried to put the square peg in the round hole one too many times.
If you want to know, then I suppose I can tell you.
I am an odd one.
I am a real one, and I come complete with my own past. I have a list of mistakes and I am a person who has secrets too.
I am the son of a man who was hard and frustrated. He was soft at times, caring, understanding and I am the son of a man; therefore, I am the son of a man who was human. Of course he was crazy in his own way.
Like me or like my Father before him, I am sure that my Father talked to himself.
I am sure that he answered himself too, and most likely, I am the son of a man who argued with himself.
Aren’t we all?
To add to this, I’m sure there are times when my Father lost some of those arguments . . .
just like me.
No, I do not think I am more crazy than most.
But yes, I am crazy. Of course, I am.
I am crazy because I keep coming back. I wake up every day and I wash myself, I eat, I go to work, and then I come back home. I have my special routine. I go to the gym. I try to stay fit, and then no different from the directions on the shampoo bottle, I rinse and repeat.
And this is me, every day.
I am a person, real, alive, and I am here, in the flesh and trying to figure out my life — or maybe I’ve already figured this out; maybe I know what would make me happy, or maybe life doesn’t always come with attractive choices, and maybe I can’t have it my way, all the time.
I often hear people say, “what choices do I have?” The answer is plenty. The options might not always be attractive, but this never means that you don’t have choices.
I am a searcher, much like the rest of us are. I am looking and hunting, and forever hopeful that I will make it to where I want to be. I have hope that I will find my way to wherever it is, and when I get there, I want to forget the past, yet I want to remember every minute. I want to remember what it took for me to get where I wanted to be.
I want to remember all the work and the sweat and pain because if I find myself at the doorway of my own private kingdom, I want to realize that I made it because no matter what, I never stopped trying.
I am a man. I have no confusion about this.
I am as I was born to be. However, I am as I have lived and I have wasted far too much time. Therefore, I am late to the show, which means I have delayed too much and stalled too often.
I realize that I procrastinate too much, and this has become a problem. I understand that I need help with this. I agree that I need help with my procrastination and that therapy would be best —it’s just that, well, I haven’t gotten around to it yet.
But I will.
I am human.
I am complete with imperfections. I’ve had my share of screaming fights while driving, alone, and reliving old fights and arguments — and here’s the real bitch, I found myself reliving a fight that happened when I was bullied as a kid.
This is obviously pre-Jiu-Jitsu and when I was small, puny, and weak.
I laugh because I found myself thinking about a bully who abused me when I was young and, of course, this person hardly remembers my name, and more, he just came home from another stint in prison.
Needless to say, I do not want to live with his options. Yet, there I was, wasting time and energy on someone who hasn’t thought about me in almost 40 years.
Like I said, I’m crazy.
I am afraid. Yes. I am.
I am afraid that I have missed the bus, so-to-speak.
I’m afraid that I missed my shot and I showed up to the party too late.
I’m afraid that I had my chance at greatness, or that I already had time in the spotlight.
I’m afraid that the window of opportunity has closed and now, I’ll have to settle for less attractive options, like the senior citizen special, but I know I’m not that old.
At least I hope not.
Nevertheless, I am afraid the moment is lost.
The time is gone, and now I find myself galloping towards a new but diminishing window called “age.” As I move along this huge conveyor belt, which I call life, I am petrified that I will never have the chance to hang my hat on something as superb as my greatest dream.
This is me too.
My fears are that my greatest accomplishments are lost in the past and missing in the district of personal blindness. This is what happens when you can’t see your accomplishments.
Everyone needs a reason. We all need to have our “Why” and we all need a purpose.
We need food for the soul and, yes, we need this to be nourished. We need our bellies full, our smiles complete, and our needs to be met.
I have needs too.
Plenty.
For now, I need to get myself in gear because I have a day to face and choices to make.
I can’t say that all of my choices are attractive ones, but I can say that I’m going to make the best of it. Faults and all.
Crazy . . .
The Written Addiction 