I'm not going to say that madness isn't a problem per se. It can be, I suppose, but things like talking to oneself are... well, perfectly sane, if you look at it from the irrational point of view. Its how I sort out my thoughts every day, and I feel somewhat sane, if not quite mad.
The best reason I see to keep this up is the honesty that comes with it. I'm not going to start lying to myself, especially since I have to put up with myself for a very long time. Or very short time, I suppose, should a heavy blow to the skull render me somewhat comatose or prevent me from forming anymore longterm memories.
Neurology beside, one's madness is a key to inner happiness, unless its one of those madnesses that doesn't know how to shut up long enough for the more fun ones to work around. Everyone knows what I am referring to. Those dark evil devils that witch about. They plague the best of us, and torture the worst of us.
That's it though, isn't it? Yeah, some of those crazy imp-things I see crawling on the walls keep me from thinking straight and perhaps that nine-head calf on the road outside isn't real, but the cheerful muse by my side? Would I trade the conversation with her to not feel or see the wild spider-cows that haunt me?
Quick aside- spider cows are horrific things. Bodies of bovines, their heads and necks are comprised of the head and legs of a giant hairy spider. And spider half is bent, conjoined to face the rear end of the bovine half. They stink of sour milk and their flesh rots, to attract flies which they gobble up.
See? Quite horrible, but I endear such insanities for a good reason. I promise, the conversations between me and the others never quite gets out of hand, but then again, life is life. Sometimes being a little strange is better, hmm?
IN MADNESS I REIGN
J. S. Pearce
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