The Bitterness of Ecstasy

Human emotions are fickle. They make us do things that clearly make no sense, yet at the time, seem only justified. Hence the new robin's egg blue nightie, still in its bag at the foot of my bed. A purchase made to make me feel ‘better.’ 

Did the purchase make me feel better: not really. And the sight of the oh-so-feminine pink lingerie bag with its thick ribbon handles only reminds me that I may not even keep the nightie. Although I will say the robin egg blue color does indeed cause my eyes to brighten when I glance at it. After all, the color blue is scientifically proven to cause what can only be described as ‘teeny tiny mini orgasms within the eye.’ This is true. I read it in a science journal the name of which I can’t remember. Yes, I read science journals.

The stack of books I bought prior to buying the nightie has already been cerebrally chewed through. The books won’t be going back. 

I had someone question my sanity recently. Its a peculiar, somewhat shocking thing when that happens. Much like biting into something you think will taste pleasant, but doesn’t. At first you laugh, but the taste lingers until you cringe. I have a steady hold on my mind, hence the ability to easily dive into the psyches of the many characters that live within my novels. I could only dive into those emotional, creative waters safely, because I trust my ability to swim.

Life, however, is a bit insane to me. Or at least, it feels that way. I’m scarred considerably by the legal system and the near decade of having lived with a pathological liar. Those events changed me, but they never took away my sanity. 

To be sane, I have to allow my mind to run wild like a child now and again; to laugh when I’m not suppose to, and to make a decision or two that I know damn well I shouldn’t make. When the mind is held too tight, it suffocates. Mine, it seems, is held together quite nicely with flexible Gorilla Glue: it ain’t coming apart anytime soon.

Of coarse those that have had the unfortunate fate of having lived with insanity, or have been scarred by actions of insanity, view the subject like an omnipresent stranger encircling their home. And I understand. That is exactly how I view lies or when things don’t add up. In fact, I’m ashamed to say, I recently overreacted due to something not adding up in my mind. By doing so, my finger was the first to flick a very discouraging line of dominoes. I regret that now; not that I brought my fears to the table, but that I allowed my fears to encompass more than the topic at hand. My fear set off the other person’s fears and here we are now: one robin's egg blue nightie later.

Sanity is looking my actions (demons), in the eye and dealing with them for what they are. Insanity is allowing those demons to rule my life. The only time I will allow insanity into my life is when I allow myself to fall clumsily and happily and insanely in love. I can’t say allowing myself to do so will be easy, my instinct will be to run for the hills. I know me. But I’m too old to let fear rule my life. I recently learned that the hard way - a bitter discovery. 

Sane