“It’s madness” I sometimes tell myself. Around me. Around us. The world. Our lives. Sometimes I tell myself I’m special. Not to distinguish myself from the rest of the people and feel different, that odd feeling of pride. Not at all. When the madness strikes in, weather you’re on a substance of your choice, even if that substance is a few days of staying awake. Not sleeping, that is my drug. It keeps me going, like gasoline inside me burning. I don’t know why and I question it lots of times, but end up drawing a blank. So why do I think I’m special? I don’t know. It’s not an ego thing. I swear. Like a cloud floating around, without direction and without shape, my mind goes all around. Where is my mind? Where? Hell if I know. Under pressure, under water. In a flow somewhere probably. Where all the junk is stored and all the thoughts like computer code flow through it. Sometimes when it’s late at night, which is when I work, I watch the smoke from my cigarette flow around the room and eventually disappear. There’s something mystifying about it. Again I don’t know why. I wouldn’t describe myself as a deep person, just slightly twisted. I think of Autumn a lot. It’s that time of the year when it’s almost here and I’m ready to once again great it like a best friend returning from a long trip, only the days I spend with it get shorter every year. It’s sad, but it’s so beautiful. I call it beautiful, because there isn’t any other word for me to describe it. If it’s raining or the sun is out. Doesn’t matter, it’s Autumn and for me, that’s the ultimate and complete freedom. It’s the color of orange and when I wake up, that’s all I can think about. I smile widely and sometimes laugh at it. Strange isn’t it? It’s like magic and it has that effect on me. It convinces me that I can write the most amazing song or the most amazing book. And the wind. Ah yes, the wind. I hear music in it. It’s that tone. Just the right one. Like scratching a puppy’s belly. Hits the spot and I can breathe. All the chains that bound you, hold you down, tare your whole soul and being apart, for a short time, loosen. They’re invisible or they disappear for those few days. I only wish that it would stay a lot longer. My friend. My lover. My muse. My power. I bet, if you’re reading this, whoever you are, it might not make sense to you and I don’t blame you. I still like you. But to those who understand it and can relate, I have a request. I’d like to hear your side of it. How do you feel about it? What does it make you do? Are you happy or sad? Tell me the tale and I will listen to every single one.
At times, I do feel like a cloud. I go where it takes me. A cloud in Autumn. When it comes to it, I cannot help but think of all the terrible things that bring us down. Our government, our broken hearts, our scars that will never heal and all the bad words that always strike there where it hurts the most. In Autumn, I just can’t imagine any of that happening. War, death and broken bones. You might call me crazy, or ignorant. But if I can feel this good at least once a year, for just a little bit and it makes it easier to breathe, easier to live. I’ll take it.
My friend, please, share your story. May the road rise and may your enemies stay far behind you.