I’ll be coming out of the gas station, masked up of course, and I’ll see this car rolling through the gas islands. Just creeping by and I immediately feel like they are watching me or looking for me or following me. Like all over I get this feeling that everyone is suspect, everyone is shady and up to some hidden agenda type shit. Everyone is following me, everyone is out to get me. And I’m like dude chill. Ain’t nobody following you. That old couple ain’t some undercover shit, they’re just old people. You’re tripping. Stop tripping. And I’m like, damn, you’re on some paranoid delusional type shit today huh? I suffer from time to time through bouts of sanity but for the most part, I’m crazy as fuck. My mind isn’t broken but it doesn’t work like most of yours, or any of yours. I like to think most of you, I like to think that I’m not the only one thinking that shit is wack. The only one feeling like something is really off here and that we are running out of time. I like to think that it’s not really just me against the world. But it could be. It certainly feels that way sometimes. I mean, everyone has always said I was crazy. I’ve been institutionalized and diagnosed more then once. And the shit going on in and through my mind is a little outlandish, it’s a tad bit nuts. My thoughts are sometimes a little disturbed and my decision making is probably not the best either, which oftentimes has me looking kind of crazy. That’s a lot of checks in the crazy box and not many in the box for sane so the evidence would point you towards crazy. But does a crazy person question whether he’s crazy all the time? I don’t think he does. I think he’s probably so far gone that he is completely unaware of his delusions, having gone all in with whatever, convinced, regardless of pretty much anything that’s said or done to disprove his craziness. And I question everything. So that’s a big ass check in the not crazy box, I feel. It’s a strong one. And science, while not necessarily proving me right, at least leaving the possibilities open for my delusions to not be delusions. For, at least in theory, them to be scientifically possible. Which places them closer to fate or destiny rather then dream or delusion, yet none the less not entirely insane, somewhat logical and consciously aware. This has gotten me like the purgatory I’d lost myself in back in Colorado, stuck somewhere between happy and not. Between wanting something and not giving a shit about anything. I’m not crazy dude. At least not that crazy. My delusions aren’t delusions at all, they are goals and dreams. The reason you are paranoid isn’t because you’re delusional at all, it’s cause you’re always doing dirt. If you’re always doing something considered wrong in the eyes of others, why wouldn’t you feel like everyone is watching you and following you or trying to catch you. Paranoia goes with crime like butter goes with bread, or maybe like a bum goes with booze. They’re just partners in my anxiety filled mind. I’m real big on signs, believing most everything to be a sign for something which isn’t guaranteed and will have a person looking for things that aren’t really there in places that they would never be. Spinning your wheels and distracting one from his own reality, lost in a dream. Or a nightmare. Stuck in purgatory. It’s going to be a fly by the seat of your pants, making moves in the moment type of operation, I can see that already. There aren’t going to be any signs. The signs that are actually there being overlooked or missed due to the smoke and mirrors, that I’m actually producing myself. Trying to ward me off from what is my destiny, trying to derail my glory for what can only be some kind of fear. Of what? Who knows? I mean, I’m sure I do, I’m sure I know. Why doesn’t matter. It never did and it never will. What is all that matters. See? Crazy as fuck.

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