Crazy Isn't Comedic

My crazy isn’t comedic. It is not for you to pick up and analyze. It is not for you to tape together with strips of well-intended jibes. It is not for you to scoff at. It is not for you to misinterpret as a cry for attention.

My crazy isn’t comedic. It is not a case of nurture versus nature. It is not because I wasn’t hugged enough. It is not because I am ill-adjusted to society. It is not for you to judge.

My crazy isn’t comedic. It is not an adverse reaction to the medications I take. It is not because I’m not taking enough medications either, thank you. It is not because I am over 40. It is not because I cannot adjust.

My crazy isn’t comedic. It is not because I am an Anglo. It is not because I’m stuck in the city. It is not because I work in an office. It is not because I’m an artist.

My crazy isn’t comedic. It is not because I live in the desert. It is not because I eat too much. It is not because my sugars run high. It is not because I am the last of my clutch.

My crazy isn’t comedic. It is not because I dream of better things. It is not because I go without. It is not because I stand silently. It is not because of my stoicism.

My crazy isn’t comedic. It is not because I refrain from letting the entire truth out. It is not because I am accountable. It is not because I carry excess weight. It is not because I wear bifocals.

My crazy isn’t comedic. It is not because I am encased in adipose tissue. It is not because I can’t handle it. It is not because so few stand up to the darkness inside. It is not because I fear for the future.

My crazy isn’t comedic. It is not because subsystems are failing. It is not because dawn is breaching from a darkened sky. It is not because the world turns on without care.

My crazy isn’t comedic. It is not because I keep thoughts to myself. It is not because I have a love of peanut butter and chocolate. It is not because an urchin begs.

My crazy isn’t comedic. It is not because coffee gets me through the morning. It is not because words rattle through my brain. It is not because I can sense patterns in the air. It is not because a red shift highlights my life.

My crazy isn’t comedic. It is not because I meditate. It is not because angels dance on the head of a pin. It is not because of deep blue seas. It is not because we bless the Maker and His water.

My crazy isn’t comedic. It is not because I have attachment to the firmament. It is not because I feel. It is not because I see a larger picture. It is not because I travel forward in time at 60 seconds per minute.

My crazy isn’t comedic because I am human.