Insanity in 791 Words

This is a product from my writer’s block. It sucks. It almost sucks as bad as giving up alcohol. Most of the time, things happen for no reason. There’s no meaning behind anything. And that’s what this represents.

All I have is my stream of conscious. 

I might be losing my mind. Not that I was ever that psychologically stable to begin with, but I think I’m beginning to see a problem.

I’ve been unemployed for nearly two months. What’s wrong with me? I don’t want to turn this into a pity party, but come on. I’m an educated and experienced dude, with lots of skills. There’s got to be some job out there willing to take me.

By the way, I wasn’t fired. In case you were wondering that. I was just laid off from a major Fortune 5 company. And I’ve been radioactive ever since. No one wants to touch me. But that’s okay. I can forge my own path. But the world often appears Kafka-esque.

When you’re in my situation, you get tossed around from one institution to the next. You get let go from a job, and they don’t care. So you go to the government for some assistance (nothing wrong with that), and they don’t care either. So they run you around in circles until you become insane. And you find yourself acting like Jack Nicholson in One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest.

Now, I’m just reading the writing on the wall. I’m unemployed and trying to remain sober. This might be what you would call a “turning point” in one’s life. Decisions that were made before cannot be repeated. And one of the hardest things to do is find new friends.

It’s been tough. I don’t believe that I’ve been up front with my former crowd. One is certainly concerned for me because he hasn’t heard from me. I’m not quite sure what to say. Another doesn’t care, but I want him to care. I think I might’ve pissed that friendship away.

Look, I’m a messed up person.

I miss my old philosophical self. I posted a couple of transcripts from the My Life With Kant days. It’s no Fredrick Nietzsche, but it was better than I remember it being. I might not have been able to deliver any sort of groundbreaking analysis, but I’m actually proud of some of the things that I said. I mean, I can’t believe that I came up with some of that shit.

And I only wrote that a year ago! Wait…not even that….it was 5 months ago!

That person doesn’t seem like me. The self is truly a Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. Only that philosophical side was the good side. Now I’m just a shell of whoever that was…a nasty, unemployed, alcoholic.

But the good news is, when you get as low as I am, the only place to go is up. So I have no idea what the future holds. Maybe one can go lower than I am now.

Homelessness doesn’t seem too bad. I had a well-respected professor that took a contrarian view on the homeless. He actually thought that they were the ones that had life figured out. We were the fools because we took on the stress of the modern world. No such concerns for the drifters!

Of course, that makes me wonder why he was choosing to teach rather than living under a bridge somewhere. But it’s good to know that he had that perspective. And the thought does occur to me…I could be homeless.

Isn’t that sad? This is where I am, contemplating homelessness. But I do admire those that don’t need the conveniences of the modern world. Those that are self-sufficient. Perhaps I should join a commune.

My problems aren’t real problems. I live in America. The average person here doesn’t have to worry about warlords or roaming rape gangs. We get our food at the store. We have Wi-Fi. Whatever problems we face, it’s totally just for show.

The mind is made to suffer. We’re supposed to be scanning for predators, gathering around campfires, and making use of the land. Once upon a time, mankind had to worry about mankind. Now we’re concerned with them accepting our friend request.

Which is worse….banding together for survival? Or being imprisoned in a cell of our own undoing? I guess that I can be philosophical after all.

Would you rather be gunned down by an AK-47? Or by a game of Russian Roulette?

We might not have to fight wolves and bears, but maybe we ought to be! Instead we fight vending machines and smartphones. The only prey that’s left rests solely in our heads. We’re cutoff from our primal intellect. It’s been replaced by an artificial one. It tells us that our struggle is real…it tells us to get a job, it tells us to get a mortgage. It tells us to find chemical happiness.

But what happens when the drugs stop working?