If ever you have curious notions of my sanity, ponderings as to where the wild wanderer has gone, and who makes the crisped burnt toast in my cranium. I have a medicinal mask baring that volatile imagination. I think with fondness of the dangerous beastly stranger living in my head, and the precarious task it is to keep him in check each day. At times it is exhausting, and seems I would find most joy letting him escape the cage and ravenge his creativity and unabridged idealism on everyones psyche. The promising sensations for me to truely spread those wide wings that are cramped and kept so neatly folded in my head, they tempt. I am beyond resolved, by pinnacle strength of habit and family, vowed to not let the monkey free. Yet again, however, I suppose, some days I slip. Last evening I made the honest mistake of not washing my brain with the essential pharmaceutical solution of Rx chemicals. Thus today I am high on my brain. I feel highly functional, clever, focused, funny, lovely, vivid, even happy. But I know more than my doctor, mother, friends, heros, and saints, this will not last. Confusion will invade, disillusion, pain, guilt, fear is next, if that monkey is truely let free. No amount of worry or praying would help make me sane, no amount of therapy or hugs, I need pills. Even as I write this I can feel that damn toast crisping. So let this be the letter Ive owed you: this is Jordans crazy, dude Jordans tough and does so much battling to be who he is. He will never stop fighting the battle, he trusts you all more than one moment of infinite joy with me, his craziness. He will perpetually need your help to escape me.
Posted on: Wed, 29 Jan 2014 08:09:16 +0000
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