I'm sinking like a stone in the sea
I love my fiance, Gary. I love the smell of the ocean. I love dancing. I love singing at the top of my lungs. I love painting my toenails. I love reading. I love faeries. I love trusting with my whole heart. I love my nephew. I love being awake before the sun. I love listening to the moon. I love cricket song. I love my dog, Daisie Mae. I love my family, but who doesn't? I love do better than expected. I love making people uncomfortable. I love writing. I love crocheting. I love the outside. I love lilies. I love all flowers basically. I love Romeo+Juliet (1996). I love English. I love words. I love cigarettes, even though Gary tells me to quit all the time. I love my phone. I love red wine from the gas station. I love waking up early. I love hearing my nephew say, 'I'm sarry,' when he does something he thinks he'll get in trouble for. I love how he calls Daisie to him. I love my bed because it's so massive. I love my major. I love being good at something. I love love.
Okay, I’m just gonna say it out loud. There are times when going crazy looks attractive. And I’m not talking about becoming charmingly eccentric. I’ve already got that covered nine ways to Sunday. No, I’m talking about purposely emigrating to the land of lunacy. That special psychological zip code where The Ancient Laws of Behave Yourself no longer apply. My “reasoning” is simple. It takes a great deal of effort to sustain a conservative, trustworthy persona. Surrendering that effort would involve, from a Freudian perspective, a conscious dismantling of the super ego - that part of the psyche entrusted with enforcing parental and socially approved actions. And therein lies the allure of going full frontal wack-a-doodle. The constant energy required to pass as normal would suddenly become available for doing and saying whatever pleases me in the moment. Imagine it. The id and libido completely unbound by any and all moral or cultural restrictions. Hmm… Probably won’t need the shrink anymore… might need a lawyer.
