alizarine1963's Journal

What would really happen if I were able to extract the creator of my madness? What if I could pluck it and all of its spiny, suctioned tentacles out of my soul and fling it into the dark night? If I knew it was truly gone, would I be able to take my place among the 'normals' of this world? Would I be able to walk down a streeet, into a classroom, a store, a church or place of prayer without being recognized? Could I truly disappear and be assimiliated into the collective masses of blank faces? Would I really want to keep up the charade? Would someone see me in the multitude of monotony and begin to scream 'IMPOSTER, FRAUD, DECEIVER, MASQUERADER, IMPERSONATOR, PREVARICATOR, MYTHOMANIAC, PHARISEE, WHITED SEPULCHRE, TROJAN HORSE' ? Would they seek me out in the crowd under the pointed finger of incrimination and drag me away to be reindoctrinated in the ways of my former madness? Perhaps they would introduce something more demented than my former affliction in an attempt to forever silence me and show me as an example to my fellows. Or would they welcome me as strange as I was and embrace me, welcome me into their mediocrity. Would I truly be able to make the conversion into ordinariness given my sorted history to make my own merriment to amuse my addled mind? Or would I end up a side show freak, a changeling left on the door step of normalcy to earn my keep as the court jester or Punchinello, a buffoon for their crazed entertainment? Would I be caged like some new species to be studied so they could morph others like me into carbon copies of their tedium? Would I fade into their uniformity and lose my individuality? Would I become nothing more than a statistic, a forgotten face like those in Hitler's reign of insanity? A forgotten discarding on the way to what they call their perfection? I will hide in a cavern and try not to appear animated when they peek into try and see me. It will be hard to go unnoticed but I must keep my composure so I will not be found out. What harm in my differentness? What threat do I pose except for their not wanting me to add my contagion to their precious gene pool? I am creative, brilliant, and mad and they will all come to know it.  Paranoia slips in as I try time and time again to fit. I will not assimiliate, perpetuate their lack of similarity to my kinsman. Some of them will call their drug use and alcoholism a duplication of our mania. Blind fools, it is far more than they can ever imagine, this world in my eyes. Though they can see reflections in my eyes, it's me mirroring them as they see me, not as I truly am.