My Own Insanity

I understand the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over, yet expecting a different result. However, it seems like as humans we are predisposed to exhibit bouts of insanity. I’m learning sanity is sometimes a bit over-rated, but I can’t help and continue to wonder why we have such insane tendencies.

I’m not an expert at anything, unless you call doing the unexpected, hoping against all odds, or loving the unlovable technical skills. In which case, I’m a master. The only way I can rationalize this chaos and hope to change it is to identify and modify the formula that keeps sending me into these spirals.

I find I’m drawn to people who have very defined ideas and philosophies; men who tend to believe they understand the world and why we do the stupid shit we do. Like a magnet, the polarity of the possibility of understanding and enlightenment pulls me. (Love the alliteration.) Yet, there’s this voice deep inside my head, my inner sarcastic realist, who rolls her eyes and shakes her head and grumbles, “They’re full of shit and don’t even believe their own lies – because they deceive themselves more than anyone else.” I can’t help it, though. I’m still attracted to the possibility of their truth, even if their own assured confidence is false.

Why do I feel the need to understand? Why can’t I wear blinders and be happy with them? Why can’t I just submit to the bit in my mouth and follow the leads that direct me? Won’t this wildness within me ever be tamed? Life would be so much easier. So many are bent on breaking me. They jab me in the ribs with their spurs, they pull hard against the bit in my mouth, they snatch the leads, twisting my head in every direction, and they securely grip my mane as they ride. To be broken, life would be so much more simple. I’d have purpose. I’d be useful. Maybe I’d be loved. I’d be fed, groomed, sheltered, and my needs would be met. So, why must I fight to be free, to remain wild?

This is my own insanity. I keep fighting over and over and over, yet the truth is… I’ve never been free. I was born into captivity. Freedom is the illusion. Wildness is an excuse for rebellion. Perhaps I fight because that’s all I know how to do. It’s also probably the same reason why I grant freedom with no resistance, not because I don’t care, but because I care too much. Believe me, it has hurt me deeply to watch those I love disappear into the wilderness … only to never return. Set them free… and if they love you they will make their way back to you. *Sigh* It’s all insane.

I live in a mad world, and it’s insane to expect it to make sense. Yet I continue in my insanity – taking chance after chance, hoping against all hope, waiting for no one.

Till next time,



~Insane Wild Woman