Insane? Or writer?

Silence. It has been so long since I felt it. The quiet. In the head. The real one. The one that can leave you free and feather light.

I don’t know anything about that kind of silence. Never have. I haven’t had an itch about how this silence will be.

My mind has always been an insane place. Full of chaos and hubbub. Even when I am closing my eyes, my mind, it never stops springing things at me. A curve ball. Always. Always. Non stop. Some times, I catch them. Other times, I miss it.

It is like a noisy, chaotic fish market, one voice ringing over the other.

Often, I’ve wondered if there is something wrong with me, with my mind. I have never tried to assert or assuage my doubts. No psychiatrist visits yet. No appointments. I am scared to know the truth.

But may be, yes. May be, my head is not screwed right. May be I am skewed from the road to normal.

I have never told it out loud.

But right now, telling that out loud makes me feel a little better.

Even now… My thoughts are running in their sports shoes. An athlete, never stopping.

My head is so cluttered, filled with so many thoughts, randomly moving and sometimes it is so hard to find the dots that connect them. It is filled with ideas, rants and raves and everything in between.

Sometimes, I wish that these thoughts would quiet down. Take a breather. Sleep. Let me be. Just be.

But it is not happening. So I try to find a way to liberate those words, let it go. To get rid of them.

Fiction. Poetry. Letters. Stories. Articles. It is my way of meditation. Yoga doesn’t help me.

My monkey mind, I tried to tame. It can not be.

I let the words bleed, through my fingers. And boldly, boldly call myself a writer. But am I? Or am I just Insane?

And yes, even after writing pages after pages, the words and worlds in my head spin and swirl, dance and waltz and go on in their merry way. Not minding my words.

I let it.

It has taken control over me.

I let it.

May be I am insane.

But this insanity has become a part of me.

Now…

I wonder… Can I even survive in the quietness of my mind?

I don’t know the answer and I know I am not getting that answer anytime soon.

So…

I call myself a writer in front of the world and call myself insane in front of the mirror.

Maybe both are true…

~~~

©Fathy_writes