Embracing insanity to avoid it

It’s no surprise to people that I am a quite unwell in the head. Or at least I try to make that fact as clear as possible. I also made it a point to fix myself the moment I am free for extended periods of time i.e. after I graduate and before I actually get a job, but I’m afraid the residual damage that’s been done is now beyond salvation. It’s something like cancer, really: when you discover it in its early stages, it is very much curable. Now that it has entered the equivalent of Stage 4, however, permanent damage has been done and the only thing left that can be done is to say goodbye ahead of time.

As a result, I like to shower at night with the lights off, among other things. I especially love doing this now because it reminds me of my childhood when the light bulb in the bathroom back home was still yellow and my parents still bathed me. Back then I liked to close my eyes and imagine I was at the beach and the yellowness of the light really helped set the mood, where I imagined I was looking at the golden evening sun. Then out at sea my childhood hero Ultraman would be doing battle of epic proportions with some monsters. It’s quite the same now, except that I try to add hot steaming rain into the whole atmosphere. This failed mainly for 2 reasons: the shower can only dispense so much water at a time, and the floor was too clean for it to feel sandy as a beach should, not that it’s a bad thing.

Like I said, I do that because it reminds me of my childhood, and I want to be reminded of it because that was a time when I had a mind too simple to understand the hell that is life; a mind that did not allow me to realize that I’m a nuisance to others, and thus allows be to continue being one. A mind that continued to anger others instead of getting angered by others, yet too immature to give a flying toss as to why they’re angry in the first place. A simple life that was not plagued by societal expectations and worries about the future. I miss that blissful, innocent ignorance.

It was also a time when I wasn’t such an angry person myself, and I really miss that. I really miss not breaking things when something stopped making sense. Then again, hammering away at a pillow back then seemed to work wonders while now the only things that work are things that actually put up some resistance, something solid that properly breaks, thus usually something expensive.

Of course, there are other things that have not specifically happened to me that have depressed me as well. First that I’ve noticed is the slow death of the blogging culture. Most of the personal blogs written by people who don’t own a multimillion and multinational business are not getting the amount of dedication and time that they used to get; all of this have gone to Facebook. This gives me less things to read, less things to get me off my own mind. This means that I have nowhere to go to when I want to look for inspiring writing, because no one writes descriptive essays for their Facebook status updates. And since most of the time a picture really does say a thousand words, that’s the medium people go for. And that is a medium that I will never use because no camera, not one, can capture an image as properly as the eye can see it. Pictures are either too blurry and not worth the attention it gets when taken by narcissist amateurs or overly glossed and edited by professionals, narcissist or not. Until the day the eye becomes a camera and the human memory can be transferred to digital format, words will still be my best friend if I have a story to tell.

And with that, the Gates of Destiny on the right shall be closed, leaving only one path left to be taken because one of the other destinations it leads to is dead, the other has become invite-only and those who are invited probably would go there straight rather than through here first and the final one is quite volatile, as it changes a little too frequently than I would like to adapt to it. It may come back once in a while, who knows? But the other two are gone for good.

As will the chat box because the ones running it decided that since they’re going bankrupt they might as well speed the process up.

Now on to something completely unrelated. My current taste in music has led me to think of a lot of potential plot ideas for a novel, but all of them will have the cliché of a love story somewhere in between. And thanks to my lack of proper creativity, especially in the ‘thinking up fictional names’ department, most of the key plot elements will have me end up in a copyright infringement suit of some sort or other. But draft after draft does not fail to race through my head recently, especially when I’m supposed to be studying for my finals. That and the fact that Yat hasn’t come up with his original story and I just continuously grow impatient of making use of the friend of his who knows a publisher. Maybe something soon; something that is completely original, or at least original enough that I won’t be involved in any legal nonsense.

As I attempt to end this post which has taken me 2 days to finish, I’m starting to like this bitter self of mine, for it is this self that actively seeks reminders of a really fantasy-filled childhood and that really calms the otherwise unwell mind. Perhaps it really is as I suspected long before; I actually have to stay as close on the verge of insanity as possible in order to not lose my mind.

And on that bombshell, adieu to y’all.