My brain feels fried. I mean, shit, it feels like the container of a metaphorical party of intellectuals and anti-heroes, in which somebody has laced the punch with speed and ecstasy; rendering the Einsteins and Clint Eastwoods with a passionate desire to dance around in togas, as they play terrible air guitar to the greatest hits of Motorhead.
This is a stupid example I know. But my mind is so disorganized and disjointed from fourteen hours of editing over the past two days, I can barely think with any sense of clarity. I won't lie, I have had moments in which I wondered if I was teetering on the edge of a mental breakdown - perhaps I am. But this is something I need to go through, in order to reach a better place... probably.
This is a rough period in my personal existence - its pretty hard to explain. My head is in a daze, my days are in a haze, and everything around me seems like a scene in a war movie when all around goes silent, and yet the chaos continues. Everyone I see remind me of ghosts. Of course, they are not ghosts, I am; but I don't have Whoopi Goldberg as a vocal platform for my words - so I have to remain silent and isolated.
I am wondering if all the frustration, confusion, and self imprisonment of writing and editing this book is truly worth it? The last seven months have cost me my sense of humour, my ability to see or consider people lives and current events, my social life, portions of my sanity, my smile, and my soul. And in many ways, it has almost certainly screwed up elements of my relationship - though it makes me appreciate being with someone who believes in the path I choose regardless - which I cannot say I will ever fully understand. Then again, love is the one concept of life I have never tried to consciously figure out - I guess I am not that crazy, yet.
So I keep going, with a fried egg for a brain, and a feeling of being completely dissociated from the human race. My main thoughts which keep me moving forward - much like any incarcerated being, is how I will be, once I come out of this self-induced psychological comatose state. I guess it will be okay. I will likely be smarter, wiser, stronger, hopefully a little happier, and maybe the most important factor of them all - somewhat humble, in the knowledge that the world is a place far bigger, than any living being which lives upon its shores, or swims within its oceans.
I am tired, I need to sleep. Please don't read this, and assume I have lost my sanity. It is merely taking a vacation, while I allow the architect in me to work the attentive intricacies of his business. When the man in me which carries my marbles is back in town, I will let him get back to writing these articles. I just hope he doesn't miss his flight...