Thank God for all the Crazy People

Yep, thank God for the crazy fucked up people in this world. This illusion of reality that we live in is so crazy by itself that the delusional words spoken by any mental health patient might seem more tempting to conform to. Bless us all God damn it. Bless my father who I used to spend countless hours with videotaping the sky looking for the returning sign of UFO aircraft and aliens that live inside. God damn it they were real! As real as the sweat that would drip from my Dad's forehead when he would talk about them.
Bless my Aunt who is a vampire from the medieval ages and has not been able to use her powers for almost two years. But fortunately she is also an angel who frequently saves people with her lightning fast speed and her psychic intuition. Even though my Aunt weighs close to 300 pounds she is able to transform into an angel who can run at the speed of light. Amazingly, she is over 130 years old and looks like she is only about 25.
God bless my neighbor who hosts about five or six different people that live inside her. One being a seductive temptress and another being a very animated six year old girl whom I had the privileged of talking too.
Bless my uncle Bob, who is a gifted photographer who has gotten his heart stopped by many electric cow fences in the process of trying to cross over them to get the picture he wanted. He also once shrunk into a tiny one-inch version of himself and tried to crawl underneath a small crack at the bottom of a door.
I am quite thankful for being able to cross the paths of so many people that have had so many different adventures.
Being that white vans used to park outside my house and use sophisticated equipment to steal all of my thoughts and writing ideas. And colorful balls of energy continuously swarm around me taking the form of demonic faces, letters, numbers, codes, and at times some very small, oddly shaped little creatures. Yes sir, I think I have earned the right to use the word “crazy,” and carry it around like a badge of honor.
Even though the word "crazy" is just another way to classify and label people separate from the rest of the flock, I find it very liberating. Fuck, it's like a constant reminder of how much we all have to offer each other. Of course, like everything else in this world there is good crazy and bad crazy. Now being that I believe there to be no opposites there really is no difference.
The good crazy is just a stepping stone to the bad crazy and the bad crazy is just an educational center that leads to the good crazy. Each is useful. Each is inspiring. Each owns it's own feeling of liberation.
We all are crazy in our own ways. How could we not be in this dimension full of lies, losses and illusions of what is to be perceived as reality. How crazy do you look to a crazy person? Probably damn nutty. Hopefully I'm striking some kind of nerve in anyone who is reading this and is thinking they've got it all figured out. You’re only as stable and perfect as you lead yourself on to believe you are.
When we allow our ideals or vision of how things are to be shaken up every once in a while, we are opening the door to our hearts. Only at that time, when we let go of our pride, do we see that love, compassion and understanding is what makes us all the same.
What is one thing to you may be completely different to another person. When you open your heart to a complete stranger who may be telling you how he likes to eat glass and that he really is a king of some faraway place made out of creme filled ding-dongs, take some interest. As psycho as it might sound to you this is how he or she sees the world. Whether or not it is real doesn't matter. The reason it doesn't matter is because anything a person feels or experiences is real. Whether it's based on truth or is absolute bullshit it is real to them.
Now I'm not saying you have to put your life in danger by traveling to the darkest alleys to hear the stories of people. I'm just saying that if someone crosses your path with beliefs that don’t fit yours at least listen to them and try to understand. You don’t have to agree with what they say. In fact, a little bit of debate isn't always a bad thing. But don't tell them that what they are feeling or going through isn't real, because it is. So, what’s true or untrue does not matter when it comes to the feelings of another person.
This is also the case when you are trying to apply what is real to yourself so that you may conform to the reality of everyone else. Feeling like an outcast most of my life and that I always come last after everyone else, I have dealt with the pain of conformity. The way you should approach this is by being open to all of your thoughts and feelings just as you would towards somebody else. Be loving and understanding towards yourself no matter how crazy, how ugly, or how wrong you think you are. Or however "out there" your thoughts may seem.
Among many different things I learned throughout my life, one very valuable tool was how to look back at all of your ugly, crazy thoughts or actions and laugh. On top of all of us being very sensitive, passionate and loving people, we are also very humorous, funny people.
Although the ugly, crazy times may have been very painful, those feelings from those experiences will be with us forever. So why not laugh at them every once in awhile and humor yourself. We all are going to go through enough pain and suffering during our time in this world. So laughing at yourself may give you that wonderfully crazy sense of liberation.

I've been to the edge.

I’ve been to the edge, falling off into what feels like a deep endless pit; Hitting face down in mud so deep that when you finally stood up the mud reached your knees. I would attempt to climb out, only to fall back into the muck a little deeper each time.

I first smoked marijuana at the age of 12 with a friend of my fathers. I didn’t really know what to expect and honestly I didn’t care. I was thinking more about the fact that my father’s friends were giving me attention. After only a few hits of the marijuana my head began to fly to other places, and it made me smile. The high kept my mind off what my fathers friends took turn doing to me, while I laid naked in the grass.
From that earliest time of being abused, I learned being high helped to make things ‘okay’, or at least easier to deal with. I guess that’s why I can’t stop smoking weed; it allows me to feel ‘okay’ when things aren’t going so good.
On New Years Eve I got high with a few friends for the first time in a few months. The next morning I got high again with the left over roaches that were in the ashtrays. I was so relaxed and at ease hiding in my back bathroom alone, smoking every little remaining piece that I could find. Later that evening my body wanted more, my mind wanted more, and I wasn’t going to deny myself any longer.
It’s been 5 days now since I’ve returned to smoking, and I already feel out of control. I just finished smoking 2 joints and as soon as I’m finished with this I’m going to go smoke another. It would help if the fucking weed was good, but the last bag I got from a bitch friend in Tulsa, the shit will barely get you high. One of my other connections from Eden got into a fight with his girlfriend and she threatened to turn him into the police, even though she smokes herself, so he won’t be selling any of the good stuff for a little while. My third guy from Glenpool got locked up, so now I’m going to my number 4 guy tomorrow or Saturday to see what he’s got.
Addictions suck.