There's that moment where you want to ask yourself what the hell do you think you are doing. You wish you could step outside your body and see your life like a diahramma, you know those weird shoebox-on-its-side scenes from a novel or event that we had to make in Ms. Smoulder's 2nd grade class. If I could see my perplex life in a frozen set, what would I think? What questions could be asked; what conclusions could be drawn? Who would be the protagonist? The antagonist? What plot would be able to created just by a look into this hectic, somewhat awry lifestyle I lead?
At times I begin to think I am losing it. Slipping through the cracks of sanity and down into a much darker existence we know as asylum. The loss of consciousness for what is and what isn't overwhelms and weakens the conscious mind. Blurred senses and diminished capabilities all bundled up together like a cornucopia of broken toys. Only these toys are not real. They are but personified humanity.
The real question is why over analyze if there is no real clearing up ahead. Nothing will be solved by drudging through everything over and over again. Lay it to rest for the night and drift off to a better place. Dreams will carry you there.
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