I am who I am; who you are not is who you are. You hide behinds clothes, jobs and vanities; your pretense has blinded you. You see me and frown; shake your head in righteous indignity. You hurry past me, without wanting even our shadows to touch. You do not stop to wonder about the stories my bruises carry, you do not stop to think how I got here, or marvel about how the mesh of my dreads betray my composure. You do not stop: to think, to wonder, to reflect. But I do. I stop in the middle of the market, to do all these things you fail to do. And then, you call me crazy.
I was once like you, staggering under the burden of tomorrow. Giving all of my thought to what I would eat, what I will have, who I will love and who loves me back. I was dying but they said it was a phase. At my wits end, I sought reprieve at the neck of a bottle. And when the cold depths threatened to drown me, I would set fire to grass. Escaping from one prison into another. Till it took its toll on my mind.
Now, I am a free prisoner; free from logic but imprisoned by my mind. I remember when I first unshackled myself, my family did not understand what was going on. The madness was not sudden like in the movies when the clothes go off and then the senses. Mine was gradual, because even lunatics take their time. It started with speech before actions then my legs moved on their own accord. Soon my body was not made of parts but independent entities; they no longer needed permission to their thing. My hands will hit my father and my lips would smile. I played truth or dare with my eyes like my mother did while I was little. My mouth would speak words that even I did not understand. And then began the storm.
It was a nightmare for my family but for me, it was liberating. What can I say? You cannot shame the shameless. This was about the time when the outdoors began to call to me. But it was difficult to explore the beckoning outdoors when I was chained to a wall and locked up in my childhood home. Many times, I tried to break free, I would rage for hours foaming in the mouth but not for long. My family would patiently wait for my strength to fail me; the countdown till I calm down. When they couldn’t bear it any more they let me out. Sometimes I would wander for days, but no matter how far I went I would always find my way back home. Well, up until that day when music lured me into the big house. I was drawn to it, to the music, but the house was something else.
There was a calm that I only felt when I looked up at the sky, there were so many people but it was not a market place. These people sang, prayed, danced, cheered. There was a warmth, a fire even, that embraced my broken soul. The fragments of my mind could not understand it and I knew that even if I were sane, it would still be as mysterious. So I stayed, I stayed till the colour returned to my eyes and understanding to my mind. Then I understood; it was not the outdoors that called out to me. Not the music either, this was a silent song. Singing; The remedy to cure all ills is finding love in the hands of God.
Author’s note: Hello everyone! I’m so glad to have you all back. 2020 has been quite a year, hasn’t it? Finding Sanity is a collection of the musings I have kept to myself all through the year, expressed from the point of view of a lunatic. Truth be told, we’ve all lost it at some point this year. But then, God cake through for me as I’m sure he came through for everyone who’s alive and able to read this story. My writing may be a little rusty and may not make a lot of sense because I wrote it amidst a confluence of emotions. I can only hope that you get it. Oh and this is another Petal, turns out I’m not done with them yet. 😁
Thank you and welcome back! Tienes mi corazon!
Love, Rosie (xoxo)