Monday; Thursday at the time of this writing, and I’m still scared to death. In a way, that makes me part of the majority. How many people have sped, hit a dog, who’s been inside a cell? Three separate incidents. “Collective Madness Is Called Sanity”
Monday, January 25, 2021
Gospel 208 ~Collective Madness Is Called Sanity~
Hundred And Seventy-Second Rule
I AM a Billionaire right now, and I must be insane. Well, indeed, I am not the only one to believe in time-travel. So I can’t give myself too much credit. Only here we are on a Thursday, and I want to talk to you right now. Yeah, it’s more like I’m scared. Is it because I agree with everyone else about a particular subject? True enough, but I might be making myself sick over nothing. Either way, the guilt… Dare I say it’s real? How do THEY say, choosing between what you feel and what’s real, right?
PARANOIA! Madam Justice has taken the place of Depression, Anxiety, and, let’s say, any “Joy-Joy Feelings.” I’m the one who looked out the window earlier because I heard voices near my door. I’m lying here relishing the concept that if it gets “real,” who’ll witness? Dammit, don’t let them hurt my Dæmon. Who and for what? That’s why it won’t go away because I won’t face it. Wasn’t it Dale Carnegie who wrote about accepting the worse outcome? Yeah, I haven’t done that exceptionally well. I can’t, Madam Justice, never. Believing such a prospect is too much. Like when I got that speeding ticket and thought I would instead kill myself than tell my Old Man. There was the time I hit that dog… instead, the dog slammed my car door (again with speeding). Oh, my time in Juvenile Detention.
Everyone agrees that getting speeding tickets is wrong. Still, who would go out shopping for sleeping pills or would turn to rob their relatives. I embraced both, of course, and now I can get proper drugs. I have other methods available. I must be insane. However, I thought I was normal when I was driving and then, bam with that dog. I was a dog killer. Mom and daughter could have found my Olds; they could have called the cops. Only the dog lived but again with the memory of what I’d done that afternoon. While I sat in the day room in the detention center after my Olds begged for my release. I won’t do that again, Madam Justice. As much as I hate my “father,” I can’t do that. Yet I agree that what I’ve done or might have is madness, everyone says.
Living this way is crazy. The Paranoia won’t go away. Collective Madness Is Called Sanity
I Will Have No Fear