In a way, I am comforted by my craziness. On some levels and in some forms, I feel like it keeps me safe. Keeps the world at bay. Gives me a last ditch emergency mode that I hope I never need – after all, I might not come back – but whose presence as an option soothes and comforts me.

And I need all the soothing and comforting I can get. to be honest. I’m an emotionally needy guy. It just doesn’t show so much because I am so bad at getting those needs met that I don’t usually do a thing about them.

That, obviously, has to change.

More importantly. I want it to change.

But let’s not get into that whole “why wanting is better than needing” spiel.

Instead, let’s talk about the killer inside me.

I have spoken in this space before about how the brutality of my elementary school years changed something in me. I became more savage and less civilized. I was forced by circumstance to tap into my most primitive self and while that eventually worked out for me (with help fromk puberty – we mutants love puberty), I still wish I could have kept my civilized innocence instead of having it bashed out of me by rape, then physical abuse at the hands of my peers, then lengthy social isolation.

It’s a wonder that I never went the jail kind of crazy.

But that would be attracting too much attention to myself. I’ll just live in quiet misery out of the way somewhere, and not bother anyone.

Heck, I will even put on a happy smiley funny cute face for the world in order to hide my pain and keep my secret.

And you’ll believe it because I believe it, sorta kinda. When I am being That Guy, I can forget about my problems and my pain for a while. And I am not exactly fabricating anything either.What you see is all me.

But not all of me.Nobody will ever see my totality. It would be too much for the mind to take. Like the science fiction trope where the Clarke level alien tech tries to cram a thousand lifetimes of knowledge and experience into the human brain all at once.

You’d think hyper advanced alien races would be able to factor in such a basic variable as mental bandwidth into their fancy knowledge machines, but apparently they really do this kind of thing to burn out people’s mind and laugh at how stupid they are.

Aliens are such dicks.

And when I say nobody will glimpse my totality, I am very much including myself. I couldn;t handle it either. H. P. Lovecraft said that the most merciful thing in the world is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents. ”

I’ve resented that statement ever since I first read it when I was a teenager. And I didn’t even know what a racist POS Lovecraft was!

What I resented was the implication that I, personally, couldn’t handle that level of total consciousness. (I never said this was sane or reasonable. )

But then I got a little bit older, and I realized that old H. P. Sauce Lovecraft was right on the money with that one. for me especially.

I have layers upon layers upon n-dimensional layers of knowledge, emotion, opinion, reasoning, and everything else built up in my mind. No indexing system in the world could keep up with it all.  The whole damn library would collapse under the weight of all that integrated data.

And that’s probably a bad thing.  Overall.

Time jump! From this point on, everything I write will have been written between 6:30 and whatev. The stuff before now was writter aeoun noonishly.

Fun fact : I have slept only two hours out of the last 24! And yet,. I feel fine. Super, thanks for asking.

So clearly I am in that even more hypo than hypo-manic that I fall into every now and then, and eventually the walls will come a-tumbling down and I will sleep for like, twelve hours or something.

Or at least eight hours,. which is three more than I normally get. Even with the sleeping pills, I only get five.

But seeing as before the sleeping pills I couldn’t stay asleep for more than 90 minutes. the sleeping pills  are much, much appreciated.

They don’t help me get to sleep (dammit) but they keep me asleep.

What I dream of is something that helps me get there. I have tried a bunch of OTC stuff as well as Zopiclone and my current pair, Quetiapine and Trazadone. and none of them offered much help in the actually getting to sleep bit.

For that, it seems, nothing will do but the long packing up process of my mental circus My brain runs at such a high rCPU ate and at such overwhelming horsepower that it takes a long time just for it to slow down enough to get off the fucking train, let alone doss down in Sleepytown.

Earlier I was thinking about how much it would suck to be a teenager in a community built around the sort of facility where the patients are there for rest in a quiet. uneventful, soothing environment with gentle pastoral splendor and plenty of fresh air.

It would have a name like SoftWillow or Glittering lake, and everyone in the community works there,. either directly or as part of the business that serve it.

Because of this. there is a very strong connection between the community and the facility and everyone considers it their duty to make sure the patients are not disturbed.

Into this setting would come our teenaged protagonist. who just turned fifteen and is starting to realize how much he hates all the peace and quiet because he’s has a lively mind and a decent IQ and thus craves STIMULATION.

I mean, can you imagine? I mean, sure, my home town was dull and boring, but this place would be dull and boring on purpose.

Hmmm. This is actually a pretty good setup for a TV series. It could be part teen drama. part medical drama, part ensemble comedy, with plenty of room for “quirky” one-off characters, as it’s a huge facility and most of the patients have mental issues of one sort or another, whether it’s from mental illness or from brain damage or whatever.

God damn I am brilliant. I create stuff like this without even trying.

Now I just need a friend in the biz…

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.