Seriously! What is my fucking problem? Honestly, if I were outed, if real people knew about this obsession, I would be jailed, handcuffed and hauled away because I am certifiable, insane, wacko, and that’s only the tip of the iceberg, as they say. I really wonder if other people feel like me, as if the world were ending, crumbling into bits under their feet, and all the while, they try to save it, salvage something from the ashes, but ashes crumble too. Do people feel this very deeply,

so deeply that wells and caves and swimming pools cannot defy the depths of this ache? And for what? For nothing but words on a page and misery beneath skin. Nothing but unsatisfied walls creased with regrets and mistakes, walls built to stop the falling but they are falling too now, cascading around me in brick and mortar waterfalls of feeling. And what’s stopping me is everything, every little choice that add up to huge ones that can’t be decided, not now and maybe not ever because balloons keep popping and bridges keep collapsing and I’m in the middle with these feelings flying like terrified rainbows and I just need your voice or hand, something to know my insanity is not all for nothing.



11 thoughts on “Insanity

  1. I do think others will feel and have felt the same way. I am a few years older than you and have only loved two people in my whole life I married my second love my first love I was nineteen it took me years to move foward. I do think as the reader there is more to your story. Who is “they” ?I may be insane too because I am trying to figure all this out. I hope this comes out right because I am trying to be a friend to you.

    Liked by 1 person

    • I appreciate your comment and concern. Thank you! There is more to the story but I always come out as the bad guy so I won’t go into it.

      In this writing, I guess “they” just refers to other people, readers like you, humans. Is it possible that others feel this strongly about another that they create whole world’s around them or, in my case, the memory of them or being with them? Perhaps all poets and writers and musicians feel this consumed. Maybe that’s why we write and sing–because we can’t contain all this feeling.

      As for my overall work, I guess “they” refers to many people and things. Depends on the poem I guess. 🙂


      • Love makes people do crazy things. I don’t think your “insane” you got me thinking though and do you think it’s the collision of love and grief that maybe takes it all to a deeper level? I understand about not going into the whole story. You would chuckle though to know the things I have come up with myself, I bet. I won’t go into though bcause it may be far fetched then again who knows. My thoughts are with you though and wish I could help.

        Liked by 1 person

      • Perhaps the collision of love and grief makes it stronger. I’m not sure. A lot of my readers have wondered if he died but he didn’t, just so you know. His silence feels that way sometimes, so final and quiet. Your comments and audience helps more than you know. 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

      • I never thought he passed. Thank you for what you said because I have felt I may be bothering you. A great writer told me once though when you ask questions it let others know your interested in their lives even if the response is not what you expected. I am interested in your life.

        Liked by 1 person

      • I appreciate your interest! I don’t think it’s all that special though, nothing really different than all other silly stories. I’m just weak and don’t know how to move on. I have no problem answering any question you may have. 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

  2. In my experience, Patience, strength is only found in pain, much like knowledge is discovered through making mistakes…and yes, others feel this deeply. I’ve caved and crumbled multiple times. Falling apart just reminds me that I have feelings. It would be reason for alarm if you didn’t feel anything at all 🙂

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  3. To love at all is to be vulnerable. Love anything and your heart will be wrung and possibly broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact you must give it to no one, not even an animal. Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries; avoid all entanglements. Lock it up safe in the casket or coffin of your selfishness. But in that casket, safe, dark, motionless, airless, it will change. It will not be broken; it will become unbreakable, impenetrable, irredeemable. To love is to be vulnerable.

    -C.S. Lewis

    “The Four Loves”

    Liked by 1 person

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