If I were rich, I would be eccentric. I am not; therefore, I�m straight weird.
I talk to myself. I used to think this was strange, but as I�m getting older, realizing other�s thoughts don�t have to dictate my actions, and thus gaining confidence, I�m find this habit to be an endearing trait of those who fall under the genus genius.
I could just be deluding myself. Perhaps I am just stupid; insane, even, not just with these thoughts, but as a whole, my being lacking sanity. It is possible, of course, but then: what is it, to be insane? Perhaps those who are considered as such are simply mentally incompatible with the rest of the world; maybe they actually have it right, in their own little worlds, and the rest of us are the crazy ones.
I can�t think thoughts like this, lest I drive my poor little brain mad. But then, what if I already have? Oh, the thoughts I could think. Oh, the theories I could share. Oh, the over-analyzing I have yet to do. There is so much potential in this world; it is all a puzzle that we will slowly but surely piece together. Anything is possible; we just have to figure out the right combination.
I have no doubt that I could be anything I want to be; perhaps that is why I choose to be nothing. I have nothing to prove; why bother? Why do I use so many semi-colons? Why else does anyone do anything, but to prove something? To say, Look what I did. Whether they are proving is simply to themselves, to their abusive fathers or alcoholic mothers or to this cruel world in its entirety, why do anything? Really?
I hate artists, but they have it right. I just hope they realize it�s all bullshit. Art doesn�t mean anything; then, neither does anything else, so you may as well do what you love and get some credit. So many fail � what does it take to be the best? Someone else thinking you are, that�s what. No one�s really better than anyone else, except in our own heads.
It�s such a startling realization: that other�s thoughts don�t have to affect your own. Don�t you think?
But then, I can have these thoughts and theories and they don�t mean anything either. So why do I bother, I, of all people, bother writing these words and forming these sentences in both proper and improper structure when I, of all people, recognize the absolute inanity of it?
To make myself feel better. How does it make me feel better? Because I hope that someone else will understand me. A catch-22 for the ages: I can be my own person and not really care what anyone else thinks, but the one thing I truly care is only such because I want someone to think/say/feel, �Wow, me too.�