A Jumbled Mess

When I tell people that I'm insane, they tend not to believe me.

Granted, I am not legally insane in the slightest. The definition of insanity is to keep doing the same thing over and over expecting a different result. Now I think that definition is a bit crap, but when you think about serial killers, it starts to make a bit of sense.

Imagine it. The serial killer is convinced, FUCKING CONVINCED I tell you, that multiple stab wounds to the upper back won't do much to a person outside of a tickling sensation in both pinky toes, and he's out to prove it to the world. He convinces himself he's just doing it wrong, and continues.

I look at this definition and don't see anything about it that fits with me. The only thing I repeat thinking this time it'll be different is maybe "the day I go around a department store with no pants" Day(or Friday, as most people like call it). No one seems to laugh at that one. I'm convinced, though, that one day some really hot girl will be in that store on that day and will approach me, telling me how fantastic my sense of humor and choice of clothing are. In my well-thought-out story that I wrote for this situation, we went back to a dirty motel, seductively looking at each other as we checked in. The person behind the counter knew what we were up to when he saw us. He gave us a handful of condoms, clearly seeing we were going to use them. I chased her into the motel room and the fun began.

We used the condoms to make balloon animals and played poker for a few minutes before realizing that we had nothing in common. I bet you thought I was going to say that we engaged in a sexual romp that would make the great Roman orgymaster Biggus Dickus blush, but I don't roll that way. Balloon animals are MUCH more fun and a THOUSAND times less awkward to remember when you walk by the person you did it with in a hallway.

But yes. People don't believe that I'm insane, or at least my definition of it.

I don't go out looking to change that either. That part just kind of happens. What I do actively go out looking to do is making people like me enough before they find out so that when they do know, they'll look at me as the loveable, nonsense-spewing, always good for a laugh kind of insane person, not the "kill you with sticks" insane person.

That being said, it is always fun to give people who think I'm in the latter group a knowing stare. The "knowing" part of it means that they "know" that I'm going to "kill them with sticks". Though even if I was a mentally deranged psychopath, I doubt I'd want to use sticks. Too much effort.

You're probably wondering what I mean when I say "insane". No, it's not "I want to kill things" insane. It's not "let's run for vice president without any experience" insane either.

It's thinking of things that no one wants to think about because they're afraid where their mind will take them. I have no such fear. I am unkillable when I enter the reaches of my own mind.

Some people call it imagination. I call it a mental issue.