Nervous Breakdown
There is a thin line between sanity and insanity. I am basically an insane person but I always feel as if I am the only sane person in this world. Menally ill people do have a sense of reality, warped by insane perceptions. Don't be afraid of them, don't fear the weakness in you that you see in them. They know when you are afraid. They need no patronizing. It's the "sane" people that I feel sorry for.

Sometimes we try and think through things logically, try to talk ourselves out of our emotions, search forever for our "closure". Anyone I've ever met does this, myself included. It's not a bad thing, it's just a coping mechanism that a lot of us have delvoped. I am an emotional person. That really, really sucks, espcially in a world of logical people. I look to logic for insight. But I am also a basketcase at times, because my emotions punch through so hard I become blinded. If this has never happened to you, you're lucky. You don't have to worry about the world. I do. No choice for me. Nothing brings it clearer than now....

I was running late for class, so I decided to drive to school. My car got stuck in a pile of snow that sits on top of a pile of ice. Oh, and my front tires are basically bald, something I've been complaining about to my parents so that they can help me pay for that. (This has been going on for months, this "bald tire" arguement. Women, never get your boyfriends/fiancees/significant others in this battle, especially if your father is involved and they get along. They will not believe you.) And to top this scenario off, I had an exam in the class I was late for. The exam lasts 30 minutes, starting at 10:30. When did I manage to get out of the driveway? Eleven o'clock. I bawled the entire time. Granted, I was allowed to take the exam when I did make it to school, and even though I've never had the unpleasant experience of missing an exam in my entire five years of college, I overreacted...if it had just been the exam I missed.

I was mad and frustrated at a lot of other things. If I write about them now, I'll start crying again, I've got tears in my eyes now. So I won't. I only cry alone, or so I think, because when I was whacking the shovel against the car and cursing loudly to God, I could have cared less if the neighbors had pulled up chairs and grabbed big buckets of popcorn to watch me in my miserable state (and I think one neighbor was watching me). I like to cry alone, because I'm a pathetic creature when I cry, but once I'm into it, I don't care if the whole world sees me. Better to remind someone of their hopless misery than to spare them from the harsh truth. (Lord, the tears are starting up again...)

I have a lot of things to be mad/frustated/despondant about. Digging my car out was the least of it. I am crying over the things I lost over the last year...the things that precipitated a change that I did not want to make. And now, as the world changes around me, I feel a little lost, not having completely accepted anything...yet. I now feel a little crazy, a bit unreal -- downright surrealistic, actually -- and if my writing gets a bit strange, that's the reason why...because I am feeling a bit crazy. I'm sure it will pass -- I certainly hope it does -- and I will be normal again. I am now crying over the dozen or so things that I should have cried about when they happened...beginning with a time point that starts closely to two years ago. It hurts. A lot.

If you've never had this experience, well, I hope that you do someday. You just might be a stronger person for it.