Call Me Crazy

Yes: I am crazy.

I’ve heard people lob that word at me like a pejorative, and I’ll admit: it doesn’t really sting. Because it’s true. It’s been medically proven that I’m crazy. If you want to whisper behind my back and tell people I’m crazy, it won’t hurt my feelings. In fact, I delight in knowing that people still talk about me. I was beginning to feel washed up.

I do feel that I have a responsibility to elucidate what people mean when they say I’m “crazy.” Usually, when people hear that a woman is “crazy,” they expect off the rails hysteria, self destruction, violent mood swings, breaking plates, shooting up and low grade criminal behavior. While all of that is quite glamorous, I hate to disappoint and let you know that, no, I am not that kind of crazy.

I’m more of a slow boil kind of crazy. I’ve been functioning in this capitalist society for quite some time now. I’m able to pay my bills, keep my house and drive my car. I have emotions just like any other person. Sometimes they’re big and scary, but for the most part I like to chill. Yeah, I have anxiety and the occasional morbid fixation, but I get shit done.

Yes, I am crazy. But, unfortunately for all you gossip mongers out there, I am high functioning, too. This means that, yes, there is a touch of internal conflict going on beneath the surface, but I can present like a normal person and get shit done. Sure, there are cracks in the surface. I’m a flawed person. But it’s manageable.

I’m the type of crazy that participates in a constant, graceful movement. It’s interesting to see the kinds of tricks that light plays on your eyes when you constantly move. If I move fast enough, the cracks in the surface aren’t as easy to see. The bright spots on my skin glisten brighter in the light the more rapidly I move. Speed creates an illusion, even though that speed is driven by an inner anxiety to always fucking run.

Things rarely get physically violent. But something insidious is always going on. It’s hard to tell at first glance, but I think they call me crazy because I know no limits. I am different from everyone else because I know how to not stop. I am crazy because I delight in pain. I am crazy because I do not conform to other people’s ideas of who I should be. I do not waste time controlling my emotions. I do not waste time restraining my passions.

I sit with my blood lust quietly, in the dark, every day. I am crazy because of it. I wouldn’t be me without it.

I am crazy as I slink silently like a beast through the night. Even when I smile, there are sharp teeth beneath it all.