Tuesday, 14 February 2017

The Story of Madness

Where does madness begin and where does it end? Can one escape its clutches?  Can one find the warmth of light at the end of the deepest black hole of despair?

To my surprise, I can say yes. It is definitely possible to reach the end of the rainbow and find a pot of gold hidden from sight. The gold is, of course, a metaphor for a life of peace, happiness and contentment. These are the things denied the man with madness. The man who is incapable of feeling anything, but pain and difficulty every day of their lives. This man is always unhappy, even when he pretends he is happy, he is always unsatisfied even when he professes contentment. This is the man who will always be in a crowd yet always feel alone. His ship is tall with many sails and in my imagination looks like a large Spanish Galleon from the 18th Century. A majestic boat that always stands out from the crowd and yet is hollow inside. Then the ship hits, the metaphoric iceberg, or has it hull ripped apart on rocks, or just blows up in a magnificent explosion.

And then it starts, the slow drift, as if you are a piece of flotsam, you slowly float away from your disaster, the destruction of your life, or in the case of the metaphor, the sinking of your ship of life. Once you are too far away from being saved, how do you get back? How do you then find a way to rebuild the ship you have destroyed?

I am not sure why I used the destruction of a ship at sea, the wooden pieces floating as the hull catches fire and the sail burns quickly, until everything that made the ship unique has gone. All that is left is the deck and the hull of the primary structure. One still resembles a ship, but this is one broken messed up ship. Where are the crew you may ask? How does the crew fit into this metaphor?  To be honest, this ship never had a crew, it sort of guided itself across the oceans and never had the chance to have a captain at the helm, perhaps one who could have saved the ship. Or, could it be that the captain was the one who went mad and deliberately destroyed his own vessel because it was nothing like the original and perhaps if he totally smashed it to smithereens, he could finally build himself a new more magnificent ship from scratch.

Back we go, as we are not close to understanding why the captain did what he did or even if there was a captain at the helm to scuttle his own ship in the first place. The wreckage of whatever caused the destruction of the ship, the ship is a man, a man suffering from a desire to enjoy the insanity. Yes, I have said it, it is probably something most will not understand or recognise, but I felt a masochistic enjoyment in the madness I created. I was also in pain, unable to acknowledge that the insanity was insanity. That the wreckage of my life, my ship was now floating an ocean of despair pieces everywhere. Parts of my own soul, gone forever, at least I thought they were gone.

Somehow, with an incredible amount of effort, I recreated the boat, it's a smaller boat, at least in its desire to be magnificent, it is just a boat with a sail, and it does not need to sail the high seas or go places no one has gone to before. It just quietly floats where I want it to go, and that makes me happy. This boat is content with its journey and has no desire for things that may have sought in the past.  The past is gone, never to be relived apart from in the psyche and the mind has an awful way of twisting the past to look like whatever it desires. One could argue that the past never happened it was just the minds unimaginable creation, made to look realistic. A divisive tool to make sure we look forward to the next day. However, with most people, we dwell on the past as some sort of memorial of what might have been, or should have been and then your captain starts to get ideas that he cannot control his ship anymore and BAM!!!, just like that your gone.

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