Crazies

You know those days when you wish a truck would run over you? Those days when, if something could take you in an instant, you’d take the option rather than living out the day. We all have them, and if you say you don’t, you’re probably lying.

Failure is a given in life. It’s going to happen. Well, if you’re anything like me, you fail a lot. Possibly so much that it affects your state of living. It affects those around you. Your family, friends, colleagues, acquaintances, even the random person who decides to give you a smile while walking down the street, with which you respond with a frown and everted eyes. You don’t want to be this way, you just are. Some say it’s chemicals in the brain. Some say it’s personal demons Satan himself has given to you. Some say it’s a thorn in the side from God to keep you in check.

But what do you say? Is it the way you were treated as a child? Is it the small bit of abuse you got from bullies in elementary school? Is it that itching you feel when something small bothers you?  You know the one where you don’t want to mention it because you know they’ll call you stupid.

The question always comes up. Why am I like this? This thing inside me that makes me miss class. It makes me want to end it all. It makes me want to give up. Why? Why is this parasite inside me? It just doesn’t make sense.

Society never looked after us. Society never cared, quite frankly. They locked us up in asylums and told us we were crazy. Kept us out of the minds of the “regular” folk, who need not bother themselves over “crazies” like us. But times have changed. Yes times have changed, and we’re out and about. We live lives that the normal people say is easy. But guess what. Society didn’t evolve with us. Society never took into account me. The one whose mind isn’t quite intact, but can still function.

On the outside, we look fine. Our physical appearance is perfect. “Why weren’t you at class/work? You look fine,” they say. They never think, and never will know what goes on the inside. Our minds are fragile, but they don’t know. And we can’t tell them! Because they’ll never know. Even if they’ve gone through hell themselves, they will not listen.

Why? Why won’t they listen? Because society has told them that we’re all the same. We all MUST fit these standards, and if we don’t we’ll be worthless.

I don’t know what to do.

And neither do you.

I feel alone but I know you exist.

Those like me.

Help.

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Author: jazzrants

I don't like jazz, but it's my nickname. Not my real name.

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