Crazy Girl In Crazy World

Looking at Nothing

Her eyes haven't closed. That is the most frustrating part.

Did you think you'd get rid of me that easily? Crazy Girl looks around. There's no one there but her...or at least, there's no one there talking to her. She's alone with her music. Well, alone in the way that there's no person around her. Instead, there's a voice talking to her...the voice of a muse.

Muse, am I? it says. Ha! You use me to inspire your stories and then call me a muse? Please...you wouldn't know anything about it. Maybe you're the one who's a figment of my imagination. Maybe I'm the sane one. Hell, you don't even know if what you see in the mirror is really you. It could be me dressed as you. If I am to exist, then I would need a body so that I blend in. After all, normal humans wouldn't even begin to understand who I am. You don't even know who I am. Where do you think you've gotten your evil from? Where do you think you that nagging feeling that you've sold your soul to Satan? That's because you have. Ha! And you wonder why you think there is such a thing as a Dark Lord. Oh, yes, he's real, and yes, I've seen what you've written about him. Maybe I'm the one who's met him. Oh, but do go on and face whatever perverted fantasies that your dirty little mind can create. Don't mind me. I'll just watch.

Crazy Girl switches positions in her chair. Oh, how she hated this voice. For the most part, she ignored it.

It was herself. Or the character in her head that she deemed herself. She never could figure out which it was.

Pale blue skin, purple-black lips, dark blue circles around the eyes. It wasn't death warmed over. It was death. This creature wasn't always mean but it was always sensible. This was the creature that felt everything...the creature that tourtured Crazy Girl with "love" and "hate". This creature was the ugliest of creatures, down to the sliced wrists and throat and teeth covered in blood, but it could be the most passionate creature that existed. It was her that never let Crazy Girl's guard about John down. It was her that inspired the story of Wicked. It is she that tosses the memory of a certain boy her way, causing distractions of all sorts. She was the one who felt every emotion on Earth and provoked those feelings in Crazy Girl. The creature never wanted to hurt anyone...physically. Emotionally, it would come up with the worst plans. This was love and hate wrapped up into one demon. The demon was not without heart though; it cherished love as much as hate. It was the most sensual creature that Crazy Girl had ever known. It believed in justice where it was due. Crazy Girl had no idea where she came from and why she appeared...one day, during a song, she was just there.

Crazy Girl tried to ignore the idea. Offically, she didn't believe it was there.

Crazy Girl, in actuality, wants to be that creature. A creature so sensual and vibrant and daring that no one notices how repulsive it is. Oh, does Crazy Girl ever want to look repulsive. Check that: Crazy Girl thinks she already looks repulsive. Obesity is never pretty, Crazy Girl thinks. But she wishes that she could be that beautiful and repulsive. Instead, Crazy Girl is quiet and shy.

She is curious about the Dark Lord though. But that's another story.

Hosea

The man appears again. He is tall, dark haired, pale skinned, with a mustache and goatee. She had visions of him and she wonders why she's seen him again and again. Suddenly, it seems, he's walked out of the shadows and now is approaching her. Who are you? she thinks.

"Hi," he says. "Do you remember me?"

Her brow furrows in thought. "Do I know you?"

His face registers amazement. "You don't know who I am?"

"No...."

He pulls a blue and white bandana from his pocket and puts it on. "You should know now..." he prompts, but before he finishes his sentence, she exlaims, "Hosea!"

He just smiles. "Yeah."

"Is it really you? Oh my god, I haven't seen you in forever. Not since we were kids. Wow. I can't believe it. I can't believe that I didn't know it was you. You've changed a lot. Wow."

"You've changed a bit yourself. You're not as spunky as you once were."

This stings. "Well, I..."

"No excuses." He pulls a cigarette from a case, a Zippo lighter from his pocket, and lights his cigarette. "I came here because you need me. You've been looking for me and couldn't find me. Lucky for you, I ran into your friend James at a party. He was talking about his lack of letters from a friend that he was worried about. Turns out that friend of his was you. And he told me all about what you had written until your letters stopped."

"My purse with the book was stolen," she replied. "And I..."

"No," he said. "Don't try that one. You know that it didn't matter whether you had the book or not. You just stopped writing. You gave up. I know you well enough to know that's what you did. That wasn't fair to him. Or to Cisily. You gave up and stopped writing. Like what? That he didn't care anymore? That you didn't care anymore? What's your problem? You used to be so cool, you used to have your wisdom and your strength. What happed to them? When did you decide to become a doormat?"

A tear slipped out of her eye. "I...I couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't take it. All of this hate that surrounds me. All of this despondancy, this depression, this silliness...I couldn't take it anymore. I was never left alone. All I wanted was to be me but they just wouldn't let it happen. And for what? For a few hours of coffee? Goddammit, I hate them. All of them. And I hate myself. I hate myself so much that I'd rather be dead and spend my life with the ghosts. I don't want to live among the living any more...they're too stupid, too proud, and I hate them."

"So you broke up with your fiancee over that?" He let out a sarcastic chuckle. "Really, my dear, I think you let yourself be sucked in by normal people. You're not normal; you're the most exceptional person that is here and now. Forget their version of humanity. Remeber who you are and where you came from." He paused a moment. "Remember how we'd always dance like dorks? It was silly but we knew it was silly. We never tried to impress anyone. We just did it because we wanted to be silly dorks. Remember when everyone teased you and you'd come home crying? I'd dance like a dork until you felt better and joined in. If they were going to give you a label, we were going to ignore it. Create your own labels. That's what you did before."

"I can't," she shot back. "I'm older now. I just can't do that anymore. That's back when I was young."

"You were wise when you were young. You need to recapture it and mold it into adulthood. You can do it...you almost did."

"I know, I know," she said, sniffling. "I just don't know how I'm going to do it."

He smiled. "Oh, you know how, you just have to figure it out for yourself. It'll get easier as you go along. Trust me. I've been through this before. And if I know you well, you're going to do something spectacluar with it." He put out his cigarette. "And now I must go. I only came to visit and I've got to get back home because there'll be mountains of work on my desk."

"Please don't go," she said. "Please stay awhile longer."

"I can't," he replied. "But if it helps, I may come back to visit every now and again. I really do have to go now. My flight leaves soon."

She nods. "Yes, of course. But...but don't stay away too long. I miss you greatly."

He smiles. "Okay, but only if you remember to write to James."

She smiles back. "Yeah, I will." She pauses as he turns to leave. "Oh, and Hosea?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you. Thank you very much. I appreciate it."

They say their goodbyes, and although she is sad that her good friend is leaving, she feels better than she has in months. His presence comforted her lonely soul. And ever since then, the visions have not appeared. She no longer closes her eyes to see the mysterious dark-haired man who was actually her friend Hosea.

Wherever you are, Hosea, she thinks as she pulls out a fresh peice of paper to start a letter, I hope you're happy. I really do.

Light of Day

Those slow, relentless hours of day hover around her like the Shadows and the ghosts and all things that exist only in mind, in insane minds, in minds corrupted by commercialism. Oh, to be ignorant like everybody else, she thinks. Crazy Girl has always wanted to be normal. But in her struggle for normalness, she has become the abnormal.

And these feelings of hopelessness, of hate, of pure and utter loathing consume her. It's not the fact of reality that causes these feelings. It's the unreality that she's experiencing that leads her to press needles into the palms of her hands. She even wrote a poem about it.

Love.

Oh, how she hates "love". It is stupid and trivial and evil. Of all that is human, it is this "love" that is the worst. This horrid feeling that one feels for another, this total and unrelenting emotion which drives the most sensible human into insanity, making that human do things that he/she would not normally do. Crazy Girl should be beyond "love". She's figured things out...but it still haunts her. To understand the whole of humanity and humanness, one must take an objective look at it, which means stepping outside of the very thing she is mired in. Humanity is a paradox: every day, humans are doing things that are contrary to logic, humans are agreeing with people that they really don't agree with, humans are arguing with people that they really agree with. How is it possible for two people to argue the same point in different ways and still think that they are arguing two different points? Ah...the answer to that is that humans are irrational creatures. Humans are subject to emotions, which are not rational in any sense and in fact are almost entirely unexplainable to others. Emotions color the world humans live in and therefore can effect the way in which they think. Therefore, there is no logical human. They're all irrational, subject to their irrational emotions, which in turn effects their logic and thinking. So, humans are irrational and illogical. And then comes the paradox. Humans are only rational and logical in the sense that they are irrational and illogical. Once she realized that humans were irrational and illogical and subject to their emotions, Crazy Girl understood them better...so well in fact, that it is rumored that she's psychic. Humans became logical and rational when she realized that they were illogical and irrational. A method to their madness. They strive to be individuals yet they constantly search for other individuals who share their opinions, backgrounds, ideas. They become individuals to form societies with other like individuals. They want to be different just like everybody else. It is this struggle that complicates human communication, thoughts, emotions.

Figuring this out has placed Crazy Girl in an odd position. With this knowledge, she has found a higher plane of existence. She exploits it to the fullest. To know what it is to be human is to cast away emotion...for in being emotionless, one experiences a depth of emotions so great, it would rip the mere mortal soul to shreds. She has cast away logic to become the most logical creature she knows. To be the uberhuman, she must be everything it is not, for only then will she become the most human. It is a power akin to magic...real, unadulterated magic, magic without spells, magic that commands wind and rain and fog, magic that is more godlike than witchlike. And she understands God on a whole different level than most people. She has always wanted to step into conversations about God and say, "You've got it wrong; that's not what God wants." But then they will ask for proof. All she can answer is, "I just know." No proof for the illogical human trying to be logical over something that isn't a logical thing at all...therefore, she knows nothing and is dismissed by the wave of a hand or a nod of the head. Subject to her emotions, Crazy Girl hates being dismissed when her wisdom is dismissed.

She has learned to hate people. But she can't help but love them all. This is the only aspect of her life which drives her crazy.

She should be above both emotions but they continue to plague her. Somehow, love and hate have become interchangable. For most people, Crazy Girl is indifferent. There's like and dislike, too, but for the people she knows well, there's love and hate. Sometimes she only hates (or loves) certain people. The emotion is constant. For others, she may love them, then hate them, then love them, then hate them...an endless circle that continually revolves. Crazy Girl feels that she should be above love and hate. Hate she deals well with. It's the love that really gets her. She doesn't understand love. She hates love. Love is for silly little sixteen year olds who think that they have the world figured out but don't really have it figured out. Love is for emotionally silly people who have nothing better to worry about. Love is for those who have never and will never care so deeply about someone that they try and harness their magic powers of humanity to help another person.

"Love's for everyone who isn't me..." (Soundgarden) That's why she listens to the music she does.

"Love, thy devil's name / curse the hearts of wicked and tame..." That's why she wrote a poem about it.

That's why she's Crazy Girl.

Who Are You?

Smile at me, she thinks. Oh, she is in love with him and it hurts so much. It hurts because he deserves better than her, this sad, crazy creature who seeks Black Jacket and plays in the valley of ghosts. He won't leave...in fact, he always wants her to stay. He wants her to grace the coffee shop with her presence. She wants to forgive him of his folly but feels that she can't. He doesn't know of how cruel the poet can be. He doesn't get the poetic nature...the unsensitive, worldly, biased nature of Poet. What have I gotten myself into? she thinks...