A different level of crazy

I am crazy in ways that even I myself don’t understand. Have you ever been in a tug of war with your other self?

I came to a decision over something and then in another moment I change my mind.  I think I have loved and wonder if that was just hate masked in civility. I thought I was feeling mutinous and then afterwards thinks that maybe I was just annoyed. One moment I’m crying, thinking of all the pain and hopelessness of my situation and then later thinks of plans on how I can make things better.

I don’t understand myself most times. I often analyze and think deeply of what I actually feel and not just the surface reaction to present circumstances. In there, I am almost always surprised. Because what I always find is that, my surface reactions are often too superficial.

I have a very active imagination. I can draw things in my mind, sequencing little events, gathering them and finding a scheme out of all of it. There should be job out there that fits this kind of brain (a job in hunting serial killers, perhaps?). The problem with this kind of brain is when I get too caught up in my imagination that it interferes with my perception of reality, of what is actually happening. Those closest to me become victims of my eccentric imaginings and it often disappoints them or hurts them. It is a big problem. So I’m thinking I should just write out my imaginations but I would risk exposing how my delicate, verging on crazy, mind works. That’s not good.

So what am I saying here? Nothing.

I am crazy on a different level. I would want to analyze myself and see if I can cure whatever is in here (finger pointing to my head). But I realize that I do not have to understand myself all the time. I have crazies, that’s a given. But who hasn’t? I am probably under the category of people whose emotional development have been arrested but whose interpersonal capacity was not affected by it. I think that would be fine by me. I want to try to stop analyzing myself and let go of whatever crazies I have without fear of being self-reprimanded.

We are most critical with ourselves. We are our worst enemies. If I keep battling with myself, I might lose touch with everything else in my life because I am too self-critical. I want to give myself the acceptance that I so wanted from others, not realizing that it is me who has not come to terms with who I am.  I have a different level of crazy. Different from everyone else, unique in some ways, but crazy nonetheless. And I am on the road to accepting that.

Dreary Toll

Everything feels like work when you don’t like what you are doing. This is what we have been told all the time. Even the menial thing we do to exist feels like a chore, that we need so much strength to accomplish it.

No one has a one-shot solution to this. Each one of us bears some reasons that may not find weight to others estimation.

Life is one dreary toll. Everything about it is a tool provided so we can continue existing and moving through the cycle that we were programmed for since the beginning of time.

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You are but one spec in this wide universe, insignificant and dispensable. You do not leave prints that can change the course of human existence. Unless, you are able to find a way to reverse or stop the unavoidable fate that awaits everyone, impending death.

Dreary toll of existence is all this is unless we find a meaning for it. And yet finding that begins another addition to the cycles that we find ourselves in, consuming us, sapping out our energy until we succumb to merely existing.

Existence likened to the a driftwood, no direction, no foreseeable fruitful end than to be swept ashore only to be washed again by the waves of senseless fate.

Dreary toll it is.

Do I want this?

This blog is another thing to get my brain busy with. As of present, I am not sure if this will prove to be useful to me, or just another addition to the clutter that abounds in my life now.

I wanted to try this. That is for sure.

I have made several adventures in the writing world but none seem to have impressed in me that satisfaction likened to having a restful sleep after a long tiring day.

I need an outlet. Something wherein I can say everything I have in mind with no limits. There is this someone inside that longs to shout out to the world all those buried thoughts and ideas which may or may not agree with somebody else’s. The point is to put it out here in the internet cosmos.

“Stranger Than Life” is meant to be a thought pad; an exposition of the rawness of my beliefs and the madness that buoys them.

I am mad in more than many ways. My sanity is imposed by society. The apparent clarity of my thoughts in my daily existence is an offshoot of the responsibilities I chose to carry however unprepared I was.

Welcome to my blog!