*...his sense of humor, generally his best weapon against the everyday evils he encountered, was starting to go. you could tell from his general attitude that things were deteriorating, but it was impossible to control. you had to get him to care first, and he had stopped caring a long time ago. it wasnt a matter of "if", it was a matter of "when".
he didnt make the rules, but he certainly tried to live by them. this didnt make it any easier. what started out as a game in a child's mind eventually became a seemingly unbearable burden. it felt as if the world was unraveling quickly in his mind, which in turn served only to confuse him. he tried every trick he could imagine to adjust himself, to get himself to care, but very little worked anymore. you could see it in his eyes: the guy couldnt take it anymore.
all of it made him feel hopeless, useless, and small. it impaled his usual energetic self, destroying any confidence which may have remained after his latest self-motivating pep talk. he tried, as best as he could, to compose himself somehow, but the usual flurry of thoughts and ideas felt overwhelming instead of reassuring. he knew this would eventually happen; it always happens, but it didnt make it any easier.
instead, everything was serving to frustrate him, the opposite of his intended reaction. he couldnt understand why what had once seemed so easy now felt so impossible. he tried calling upon his inner self to calm himself, he tried a soothing mantra, he tried to meditate, he tried finding his "power animal" in his mind, he tried breathing exercies. none of it was working.
* every thing he could think of, every word he uttered, everything was drowning out his inner voice. he could hear himself in his head, but he couldnt think. thoughts had begun to defy him, something he never would've imagined possible. how was it possible for him to be unable to comprehend his own thoughts? the mere thought paralyzed him, none of which helped him in his current predicament.
he certainly was not the first to be afflicted by his condition, but he definitely felt like the only one. doctors told him he had bi-polar. no one could explain the details behind his latest episodes, yet everyone was certain of the diagnosis. they tried explaining to him how it worked, but all it did was confuse him further. he tried to understand, but he felt like a sideshow to them. they poked and prodded him like some strange animal. they asked him questions he felt were cupcakes. why did everyone feel like they were "in" on whatever joke he felt life was playing on him? why did it make sense to believe that "someone" was "behind" his latest "episode"? there were the questions again. he knew he'd better think of something else, but he couldnt help himself.
* the more he thought about everything, the more he felt confused. he wanted to believe that it was all going to be all right. he wanted to believe everything the doctors were telling him, but it conflicted with his version of the story. the way they told it, he was a crazy man, but he didnt feel that way. he tried explaining it again out loud. there had to be some logic behind his story, there wasnt any other way. he wasnt the kind of guy who obsessed over anyone, much less a celebrity. what would he have to gain from meeting one of them? they didnt know what it was like being him. they probably had fabulous lives doing fabulous things with fabulous people. what could he possibly have to offer people of that caliber? he was just a simple man caught up in a greater web, that's what he believed.
he tried asking the doctors to explain the details he described, but every one of them shot him down. he knew he was losing the battle, but with whom was he fighting? he had to find a way around the questions in order to find his bearings, but he was having a terrible time focusing. "think back, think back, think back..." was all he could mutter to himself. he didnt just come into the city out of the blue, he never behaved that way. he always had a purpose behind each action, always had a reason for why he was doing something. he just needed a second for the details to come into focus.
nope. fooled again. he was beginning to understand why they had him under their control. he didnt think it would happen again, he was certain he'd be "let in" this time. it was getting increasingly difficult having to explain the whole sequence of events to the EMT's when they arrived. it was worse trying to make sense of the way the cops behaved. did they really say that? did that really just happen? the doctors were taking turns trying to convince him it was all in his head. they werent succeeding.
* "...and eventually things will be explained to me..." he tried to reassure himself, but a greater sense of uneasiness was prevailing in his mind. every time he felt like he was on the cusp of discovering the purpose behind his journey he felt like he was falling back into a loop like a broken record. "but, how come..." this was beginning to grow tiresome, he knew he had to break the loop, so he decided to go for a drive.
usually, when things werent going well, he could count on driving a couple of miles on the highway to "figure things out" before coming home when "things made sense" to him. the problem was that everything was beginning to make sense to him before it would stop making sense. he knew this wasnt good, so he tried as best he could to cope.
* another uneasy night of sleep, another morning of questions, another day of pondering.
if thinking was an olympic sport, he'd be a world class athlete. instead, he's labeled as a crazy person. some labels are harder than others to shake. this isnt one he's planning on shaking, either. he wears it proudly like a badge of honor. few others can boast that they are crazy and know about it.
the problem was deciding what to do now that he had finally gained "recognition". is that what he was calling it? "oh boy!" someone was going to have to explain it to him again. it seems as if he's never going to get it...
he didnt make the rules, but he certainly tried to live by them. this didnt make it any easier. what started out as a game in a child's mind eventually became a seemingly unbearable burden. it felt as if the world was unraveling quickly in his mind, which in turn served only to confuse him. he tried every trick he could imagine to adjust himself, to get himself to care, but very little worked anymore. you could see it in his eyes: the guy couldnt take it anymore.
all of it made him feel hopeless, useless, and small. it impaled his usual energetic self, destroying any confidence which may have remained after his latest self-motivating pep talk. he tried, as best as he could, to compose himself somehow, but the usual flurry of thoughts and ideas felt overwhelming instead of reassuring. he knew this would eventually happen; it always happens, but it didnt make it any easier.
instead, everything was serving to frustrate him, the opposite of his intended reaction. he couldnt understand why what had once seemed so easy now felt so impossible. he tried calling upon his inner self to calm himself, he tried a soothing mantra, he tried to meditate, he tried finding his "power animal" in his mind, he tried breathing exercies. none of it was working.
* every thing he could think of, every word he uttered, everything was drowning out his inner voice. he could hear himself in his head, but he couldnt think. thoughts had begun to defy him, something he never would've imagined possible. how was it possible for him to be unable to comprehend his own thoughts? the mere thought paralyzed him, none of which helped him in his current predicament.
he certainly was not the first to be afflicted by his condition, but he definitely felt like the only one. doctors told him he had bi-polar. no one could explain the details behind his latest episodes, yet everyone was certain of the diagnosis. they tried explaining to him how it worked, but all it did was confuse him further. he tried to understand, but he felt like a sideshow to them. they poked and prodded him like some strange animal. they asked him questions he felt were cupcakes. why did everyone feel like they were "in" on whatever joke he felt life was playing on him? why did it make sense to believe that "someone" was "behind" his latest "episode"? there were the questions again. he knew he'd better think of something else, but he couldnt help himself.
* the more he thought about everything, the more he felt confused. he wanted to believe that it was all going to be all right. he wanted to believe everything the doctors were telling him, but it conflicted with his version of the story. the way they told it, he was a crazy man, but he didnt feel that way. he tried explaining it again out loud. there had to be some logic behind his story, there wasnt any other way. he wasnt the kind of guy who obsessed over anyone, much less a celebrity. what would he have to gain from meeting one of them? they didnt know what it was like being him. they probably had fabulous lives doing fabulous things with fabulous people. what could he possibly have to offer people of that caliber? he was just a simple man caught up in a greater web, that's what he believed.
he tried asking the doctors to explain the details he described, but every one of them shot him down. he knew he was losing the battle, but with whom was he fighting? he had to find a way around the questions in order to find his bearings, but he was having a terrible time focusing. "think back, think back, think back..." was all he could mutter to himself. he didnt just come into the city out of the blue, he never behaved that way. he always had a purpose behind each action, always had a reason for why he was doing something. he just needed a second for the details to come into focus.
nope. fooled again. he was beginning to understand why they had him under their control. he didnt think it would happen again, he was certain he'd be "let in" this time. it was getting increasingly difficult having to explain the whole sequence of events to the EMT's when they arrived. it was worse trying to make sense of the way the cops behaved. did they really say that? did that really just happen? the doctors were taking turns trying to convince him it was all in his head. they werent succeeding.
* "...and eventually things will be explained to me..." he tried to reassure himself, but a greater sense of uneasiness was prevailing in his mind. every time he felt like he was on the cusp of discovering the purpose behind his journey he felt like he was falling back into a loop like a broken record. "but, how come..." this was beginning to grow tiresome, he knew he had to break the loop, so he decided to go for a drive.
usually, when things werent going well, he could count on driving a couple of miles on the highway to "figure things out" before coming home when "things made sense" to him. the problem was that everything was beginning to make sense to him before it would stop making sense. he knew this wasnt good, so he tried as best he could to cope.
* another uneasy night of sleep, another morning of questions, another day of pondering.
if thinking was an olympic sport, he'd be a world class athlete. instead, he's labeled as a crazy person. some labels are harder than others to shake. this isnt one he's planning on shaking, either. he wears it proudly like a badge of honor. few others can boast that they are crazy and know about it.
the problem was deciding what to do now that he had finally gained "recognition". is that what he was calling it? "oh boy!" someone was going to have to explain it to him again. it seems as if he's never going to get it...
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