Passionate Craziness without End

I was about to write myself a note in my journal so that I wouldn’t forget something when I wrote: I don’t want a vacation. Maybe part of me didn’t want a break from what I perceived as craziness in my head. Perhaps craziness would be too much for me to handle on my own. Sometimes I want to believe that there’s room for only one in my mind: the crazy one. These sorts of mental confrontations can be difficult to deal with in words. Maybe part of why I write in a journal is to help myself become aware of the conflicts in my mind. Imagining in words can do wonders to create inner calm, even if for only moments at a time. Time itself sometimes reveals new sides of itself to me in a single sentence. The work of writing a single sentence requires passion. I’m seeking something passionate in these sentences, or maybe passion is seeking me. Past and present tenses have become one. I no longer feel crazy. Maybe I’m ready for a mental vacation, if only for a moment. Soon part of me will want a break from calmness. Writing these sentences shows me, once again, that there’s room for more than one in my mind. It’s as if I can see my mind in action in this journal, one sentence and word at a time. Writing doesn’t let me forget where I am: in my own head and body. I imagine my body saying: you almost forgot about me. Craziness helps when words keep appearing as if the word end didn’t exist.

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4 thoughts on “Passionate Craziness without End”

  1. I like the concept you are evoking that maybe writing occurs somewhere between stability and instability; that it is a process rather than an event. It reminds me of my favourite quote by Lacan “A certificate tells me that I was born. I repudiate this certificate: I am not a poet, but a poem. A poem that is being written, even if it looks like a subject.”

    Liked by 1 person

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