I talk to myself. Does that make me crazy? Tell me something I don’t know.
Who ever sits there and says, “I hope they see me as a really sane, stable, and wholesome person,” to themselves? Some of these qualities are fine incorporated in some aspects of life. But, if this is why someone likes you then I have bad news. You’re an average person and so is the person who loves this mediocrity in you. Does anyone genuinely desire to be average? No. So, yeah, I’m crazy. And thank God.
But when I say I’m crazy, what really do I mean? That I am a danger to society and should be committed and monitored? This may be so, but no, this isn’t what I mean. That I am a reckless asshole who is known for partying like it’s 1999 and driving 80 miles per hour down Elm? Although this also may be true on occasion, let’s rule this one out. A time saving description of my kind of crazy is: “Julia.” I am crazy because, literally, it’s unknown to even me what Julia might say/do/be next.
I’ll tell you exactly what I am. I’m:
Case in point.
P.S., John Beckwith says, "When it stops being fun, break something." I agree so greatly.