If thoughts could be prosecuted by a court of law, then I would be serving a life sentence. Honestly, I don’t think I would be alone. There was a time during Brian’s active drinking where I contemplated smothering him with a pillow, but I was reminded that no man is worth going to jail over, and so, I allowed him to live. Funny, I don’t remember him thanking me for sparing his life. Oh well, maybe it’s just an underlying gratitude.
So, through the ebbs and flows of my warped perception, my thought process isn’t a reliable narrator for what is my true reality. Maybe because I am a writer, my thoughts are more embellished and colorful. Or, quite possibly, I am a loon. I waver between the islands of cray cray and semi-sane. We all float that way. It doesn’t define who we are, but makes us more interesting and in my case, entertaining. Not necessarily to others, but I entertain myself quite a bit. Sometimes me, myself, and I resemble the Three Stooges except we are much cuter than they were.
All in all, I need to embrace the blanket of quirkiness that envelopes me. I am not perfect. I am not completely sane. However, I am doing the very best that I can and honestly, so is everyone else.