I'm crazy. Not bat-shit crazy; that might be fun. I'm the other kind of crazy. The crazy where you're still a normal person with a job and a wife and a life full of everyday tasks. Except that you've got the 'other side' of your brain that just rides your ass all day and makes it impossible to do any of those 'normal' things. Sometimes I think I'd be happier if I just gave in and let myself drift away into insanity. But I can't.
I can't have a normal 9-5 job or I'll get suicidal. I can't be alone with myself or I'll go crazy. I can't be in a crowd without sweating. I can't decide to do something because I won't go through with it. I can't feel the same way tomorrow as I do today; about anything.
The thing is that I'm very good at some things. I can love. I love my wife; and she knows it. I don't let her forget it for a second. I can talk people through things. I just sort of assume that if someone has a problem that I can help them to see it from a different point of view. The thing is that when I do that for someone else they're good for a while. I have to fix myself everyday if not more. Then I wake up in the morning and I have a whole new set of troubles.
I've got some sort of messiah complex. At some point I just took notice of how sad most people are and decided that I could figure out why and what to do about it. I'm constantly calculating; it's not even a choice anymore. Reading and thinking and researching and experimenting. I'm constantly racing the clock to come to some sort of conclusion about life. The Dreamer has gotten out of hand, but I don't think he can be stopped. It's as if I built some part of myself to answer this question and now its slowly cannibalizing the rest of me. It needs more resources, more of me. And its taking me; it's winning.