Humanity, Insanity, and Perspective

I can feel the madness slowly taking hold of me, it's like falling in love, I suppose that's why they call it being "madly in love." Love is probably the craziest feeling. It makes us stupid. It makes us fear things we wouldn't fear otherwise. No one would fear loss if they didn't first meet love. You wouldn't be here in this institution, or rather, asylum listening to everything I have to say if you didn't love me. We're all mad in some way or another you know. Insanity isn't really insane if you think about it, it's just a product of our humanity.

You look confused, so let me explain. You and I and every other person is unique, and I don't mean as individuals, but as a whole. Humanity—you see—is unique. We're the only creatures capable of abstract thought, we have no instincts. We equate insanity to losing our humanity, we equate it to becoming animal, to giving into instincts that are no longer our own. Really though, humanity is insanity. Animals, if you think about it, are the truly objective ones. They know no petty emotions, only survival. Yes, they lack the abstract thought to be objective, but we lack the ability to be unfeeling enough to be objective.

We define insanity as deviating from the norm, but that is humanity, is it not? The very act of being human deviates from the norm. So are the people in this, dare I say, nuthouse actually insane? According to human norms, yes we are. According to all the other norms, I'd say that we're regaining our sanity. But it's all about perspective. In one line of thinking, I am in a state of constant and rapid deterioration. In another, I am in a state constant and rapid improvement. So which is it? Deterioration or improvement? Who the hell knows. That's the trouble with perspective, there's no such thing as a solid answer.

I'm perfectly aware of my acute mental illness. I'm reminded of it almost every second of everyday since I was dragged into this place. All of that, what I said before, wasn't some silly anecdote to prove that I'm sane enough to get out of here. No, it was just something I realized in my six months here. I've come to terms and I've accepted the state of things. I'm no longer angry, no longer miserable, and no longer confused. I thought that I would always hate this place and that I would always hate you for putting me here. But I don't. I don't totally hate this place and I could never hate you.

I'd like to think that I've made a monumental discovery here. I'd like to think that my illness has paved the way for me to find enlightenment. Not a spiritual or religious sort of enlightenment, but a factual enlightenment. I'm finally okay and I know I'm going to be okay.