I feel like I'm slipping away. The bottomless pit that I venture down every so often seems to be inviting me for another trip down the dimly lit hallways of my mind where I've found myself lost time and again. It calls out my name and promises me that it's better there than where I am right now.
I feel like I'm losing my grasp on reality. Like my grip is getting too loose. Like I'm ready to float like the thoughts in my head. I'm attached to my environment with a thin thread of consciousness, one which could snap at any moment. I don't know if I would mind if it did.
Sanity seems like a silly concept. Acting sane makes me feel like an alien mimicking human behavior simply to fit in and not be ostracized. It has drained me, maintaining the facade, day in and day out. I can almost see the cracks on it, the cracks from which an occasional stream of madness flows.
And if this is the price I have to pay for social acceptance, I'd rather choose madness and be ostracized for it.
This madness is enticing, it is freeing. I can simply be mad, completely let myself go, without any regard for what is going on outside my mind.
I like staying inside my head. It means I don't have to deal with the mundane social meetups, it means that I can live in a dream and away from the harsh reality that awaits me. It means that I can continue on with my narration of a perfect us and disregard how I am so close to losing it, losing myself.
YOU ARE READING
On Madness
Short StoryThese days, reality seems to be floating away, hanging on just by my fingertips. I phase in, I phase out and I question myself if I even want to live in reality anymore. An attempt to retain my sanity- one word at a time.
