Career Day

No child wakes up and resolves to be crazy, just as no woman determines that it is best to be alone. I am both. As a girl, I entertained dreams of becoming a singer. Needless to say, I have found myself in a substantially different field. I am, as Oscar Wilde so eloquently put it, 'A Woman Of No Consequence'. As a matter of fact, I do believe that scientists are the only individuals capable of finding fascination with me; due solely to the teeming labyrinth of abbreviations and chemical imbalances that comprise my brain. This is in no way a comforting thought. I had dreamed of and worked for a life in which I could share my gifts on an international scale and would be valued for them. I find myself irrefutably stuck in an existence of debilitating manic insanity, and when I leave it, I will leave no other mark than the bleeding claw-marks indicative of one last 'rage against the dying of the light' from the rational portion of my brain. I can be so much more than this--or so I tell myself. I could be LOVED. I could be WORTHY. I could be VALUED. Or, as is always the case, I could go crazy. The past several weeks have been a veritable blur of insanity. The small part of me that actually remains me during these episodes has observed a near-suicide attempt; a most curious mania; the inevitable switch into catatonic, abysmal despondency; the compulsory resolve for change; the ensuing miserable failures; obsession to a life-threatening degree; panic; something so much stronger than panic that humanity has not developed a word for it yet; blinding rage; debilitating apathy; and ultimately, a return to the customary semi-placid holding pattern. This life, if one can call it that, is exhausting. This is not at all the way I had imagined it.