I think I've figured out how not to be crazy. No not really. If I knew that I wouldn't be crazy anymore. Being crazy is very time consuming and leaves one without much reward. Letting the brain ruminate on the same thing all day can't possibly be healthy or productive and yet the brain somehow doesn't care. I have these bouts of either asking my brain what to do or calling my brain a moron. There's no winning involved and I wind up where I started: Nowhere.
I have some thoughts as to why my brain tortures me with information and expectations. I don't think it was my brain to begin with. Ok, I know that sounds crazy but let me explain. What if my brain was really my Siamese twin brothers brain? What if he was all but reabsorbed in the womb only to surface years later to drive guilt and doubt into me like a railroad spike? I've never heard it cackle maniacally but that's only because that would confirm my suspicions. Never mind my evil brain.
What about my heart? I think they are in cahoots. But I don't think it belongs to a twin brother. I believe that was transplanted in just before puberty. I don't know when or how but it just doesn't seem normal sometimes. Why else would I tear up at movies that are barely sad? One might think I'm less of a man but then again one can stick it where the sun don't shine.
My heart and my brain can both eat the big one for all I care. I can't trust them not to screw me up from day to day. I'm going to have to band together with the rest of my body parts to combat this evil conflagration from hell. I can see it now: My lungs and stomach leading the fight while the kidneys and colon back them up as calvary. There will be much headaches and running to the bathroom but I am confident that when the smoke clears, I'll have full control of my brain and heart. It's a good thing they don't know what I'm doing otherwsie ti wulod eb ipmosisbel ot tpye.
