I'm Not Crazy

~37~ One My So-Called Life Marathon Later

"School is a battlefield for your heart. So when Rayanne Graff told me my hair was holding me back, I had to listen. 'Cause she wasn't just talking about my hair...she was talking about my life." ~Angela Chase MSCL

🙃🙃🙃

After ten plus hours trapped together in the car, listening to ancient 80's music while acting as both copilot and navigator. By the time me and my new X-Bestie get back from our annual road trip to the Madhouse its nearly midnight. I am like the walking dead staggering through the front door of the Casa de Crazy. I am sofa king tired I can barely trudge upstairs towards my awaiting bed. Listlessly leaning into the wall as I drift down the long hall, dragging my go bag behind me like a corpse.

After the excruciatingly long march up the stairs, I finally reach my room. Where I just let the bag fall from my hand and drift straight into the bathroom mirror. I don't even bother to insult the wretched looking girl with the dead eyes staring back at me from the other side I just pop open the medicine cabinet and grab the beater off the hook.

True to his word, Billy kept my wings safe. Just an hour earlier he texted me where he left my wings for me to find. I kiss my wings once for luck and wrap the thick chain around my wrist. You know, just in case Taliban ninja pirates attack? So I can beat them half to death with my beater chain before the Crazies can steal their souls for our collection.

With wings in hand, I snort once in disdain at the godawful-looking wretch trapped behind the mirror and head to bed. On the short stumble to my bed, I slough out of whatever it is that I am wearing down to my skivvies. Then just sprawl-crawl under the covers and close my eyes. Three breaths later I am long gone from the mortal coil and deep in the darkness of dead sleep.

I have an oddly dreamless night for the first time in a long time. No Crow King to scream at me, and not even one fucking fairy insight, showing up to give me any shit. Which I try to take that as a sign that things are okay between me and my father's shade. Now that the obligatory annual visit to the rock with his name on it is over for another year.

I end up sleeping so deep, that I even drift through dawn and well into the mid-morning. Hell, after almost two days in a row of no sleep, I might have even slept until lunch, but for the cacophony of bitching birds wakes me up. The flock of little carrion bastards, who have recently decided that the blackberry bramble is an excellent place to have their flocking bird breakfast in the morning.

So I lay for a while, watching the dust motes dancing the honeysuckle sunlight streaming through the stained glass window above my bed. Lording its stupid majestic morning brightness over me. Just listening to the flock outside bitch about breakfast and how the berries aren't perfectly ripe yet.

After making my major "deciding things" break through yesterday, I find myself just drifting along in the aftermath of those fateful thoughts. Thinking through the various forces that have led me to this strange moment in my life. Where executing my virginity at the first available appropriate opportunity is the solution to everything that is right in my life.

One of the things that therapy has forced me to face down is that I have to own my truth and make it mine. To accept the things I cannot change, and find the courage to change the things I can. But with the wisdom to know the difference between the two forces. Personally, I am still working on the "owning my own truth" part of that master plan. But thanks in no small part to going Crazy, I have been discovering my courage to change my fate of late.

The truth that I have come to recognize about this sudden drive to have The Sex. Is that this sudden sex drive is really a desire for control. That I am resolute in my desire to control my own fate from now on.