An Unmedicated Day

I am feeling out of sorts again. Nothing looks enticing to endeavor. I am glum and withdrawn. This is a me that is hidden. But it is ever present, imposing fear and instability within its realm. All I want to do is run and hide. From everyone and everything in my path. I am sick of it all, the people, the problems, the wants, the needs, the dialects, the expectations, this feeling. It is the raw me. It is the sad me. The me that I brought along to this world, remnants of the other. But to fit into this world, the real me has to hush and be ignored. Not unlike how I am treated by Mother. I come from a different place. I see things differently. And it scares me to witness the defaults of man. I cast a tear and feel sorrow for them all, somehow knowing that they are all a lost cause, and me along with them. I feel catastrophe is eminent and looming just around the corner. Am I crazy? Am I crazy because I am not all smiles and gloating every day? Am I crazy for feeling sadness a preponderance of the time? Or am I categorized as such merely because I am different than you? What would it mean to your ego if I proved you wrong? Joy is such an obstacle to reach. How do people do it? Are they really born this way? Is this the natural order of things...to be happy with bouts of intermittent sadness procuring only when a loved one dies? And only then, does it stay short-lived. For to the natural mind, perhaps sadness is seen as a rare abnormality deemed justifiable as one mourns. But to this mind, outlandish and obscure, this stranger in a strange land feels this unredeemable sadness as part of what is. I don’t know anything else. For the most part, anyway. So can you blame me for having to numb this feeling that society deems to be unwelcome upon its inhabitants? How am I to fit in and not be exiled if I don’t hide that part of me away somewhere? When I am free again it will be a huge relief not to have to hide myself anymore. But for now, douse me with liquor, inundate me with glass, trick me with pills, and cloud my sight with herb, all to feel normal. So we can all feel the same fake happiness that the media imposes on the will of man.