Insanity

Conversations with myself...or with the voices in my head. These happen often and increasingly so lately.

I am increasingly aware of how outside of the mainstream consciousness that I exist. Does this denote madness or awakeness? I fear I walk a fine line of balance between sanity and madness, that I am walking a tenuous path. Why do I cling to sanity? It is merely defined by the mainstream and by those who seek to be 'normal'. It seems that madness would be a relief, a natural progression of things. That this would be an excuse for me to exist as I wish, to "Do what thou wilt" as I would already be judged as 'that crazy girl' and therefore my actions would no longer cause any type of surprise to those around me. Why do I care, I don't care...I cease caring. And yet, the duality within me, the everpresent existence cares; this I cannot deny though I seek to. I don't care, I do care, I don't care, I do care...neverending beating in my skull, pounding in my head. My bright eyes view the world in a new light every day. What to do? Who knows what the future will bring. More knowledge, more knowledge. The quest is neverending.

I fear to let go, I fear to reveal the true me. I fear that she will be uncontained, uncontrolled, brilliant. I fear that she will run away with me, that the part of me that lets go will injure the part of me in control. That she will not want to relinquish the freedom that she will be afforded and that I will never exist again if she takes hold. Ironic that my greatest fear is to be caged and yet I fear also freedom, ironic that I cage myself and refuse to let go. That I cling to control with all limbs, that fear of freedom pervades my existence almost as much as fear of cages. Iron bars wrapped around my essence, welded to my very skeleton, my very being. No wonder it is so difficult to let myself out...I have entrenched them so fully into who I am.

And yet, let go I must. Time, time, time...I have time, eons, and yet I have none. It flows through my fingers, grasping fingers...trying to hold on, trying to let go. It slips, it slides, and yet there are so many lifetimes after this one. Why do we seek to rush and yet to hold on, to hold back? We are such paradoxical beings. The sands flow, they ebb, they flow....