"You really are, I mean there is no other rational explanation.”
Of course I wasn't having any of this.
“Your crazy” I snapped annoyed.
“Everybody knows
when you are totally ******* insane, you don’t realize your insane.
You don’t sit around contemplating, your insanity, dissecting it like a minuscule insect,
trying to find the heart of the matter.”
Just the fact your considering your slow-bus status
makes you sane right?”
She just shook her head.
I sat silent... ******.
These days, I am starting to rethink my whole position.
Maybe if you wonder if you are insane, there is a chance you may be.
I don’t mean a little crazy... manic... I mean batshit crazy.
Insanity is your job.
The labor of your days is the
knitting of intricate webs of delusion,
crafting your own personal hell,
making ready your eternal cell.