At the risk of sounding crazy…
Ok, before I can even go any further I have to implore my mind to find the reason why my mouth should utter such a sentence as, ‘at the risk of sounding crazy’. I suppose my prefrontal cortex hasn’t been completely disposed. There’s still a few soldiers up there trying hold down the fort, which is the metaphorical analogy of the physical reality of a filter that I have never really possessed, completely, or which came broke.
So, does that make me crazy?
I don’t know…I have hung out with my share of full-fledged schizophrenics and mostly always enjoyed the hell out of their company, but never did I hear them verbalize their worry of the possibility that they may be crazy.
Have you?
Now I went off track and I don’t even want to write anymore about what I intended to write.
I am a fallen angel.
