At some points in my life, a feeling of weirdness weaves itself into my system. One time, I feel like something is trying to rip me inside out. Another time, I feel like something is eating my head off. Yet another time, I feel like I am losing it—I want to slap people around me for no reason except the stupid look in their faces, or I wish to hurl things and sleep endlessly afterwards. Fortunately or unfortunately for this dear life of me, I get through the feeling intact, and then move on to spend the rest of the day productively like any normal person does and can. Shrinks have a name for it, I am sure. Nonetheless, I do not think that getting informed of the psychological label for this bizarreness will make me feel better once the weird moment starts coiling my senses. I may be offered counseling, medicine or other forms of help, but I think it is futile. Why should I think otherwise, when the strange descent will make its way to me yet again in some other time in the future. No number of pills and no amount of advice will ultimately drive it all away. Which is not to say that I am relishing the experience. Nobody wants to be branded psychotic, unless one is crazy enough to enjoy the tag. There is nothing to delight about struggling to contain one’s instability of the mind, just so one can safely belong to the normal crowd, notwithstanding if studies show that there is always a tinge of quirkiness in everyone of us, that normality is now a thing of the past, an obsolete hallucination of the memory. Thankfully, there is art to resort to when my world begins to turn upside down again. Others unleash their inner demons through painting, dancing, singing, whereas I write to describe my twisted but personal view of reality. I write as a therapy, and when words pour out of my system, I hope that I make myself clear enough for others to sympathize at least instead of inspiring them to call me names or dismiss my feeling as incomparable to the ills of the world. I hope to make them see through my artistic refuge that indeed, we are unified humans for feeling this weird way one time or another.
comparative literature major from the state university, boyish-looking, 5'5", slim, brown, clean-cut, clear-faced, originally from nueva ecija and tarlac, hilarious, smart, flirtatious, literary-inclined, temperamental,in the brink of OC-ness. "'di ba, ako'y tao lang na nadadarang at natutukso rin...?" drop me a line at yahoo messenger: email@example.com; email: firstname.lastname@example.org;
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