You’re entirely bonkers. But I’ll tell you a secret, all the best people are.
Crazy is a sliding scale on which everyone sits and there is one simple test that can give a deep and comprehensive view into someone’s level of mental stability. Namely, that the more adamant you are that you’re not crazy, the more likely you are to be clinically bonkers: fully-fledged, couch-jumping, crazy-scientologist, Tom-Cruise level cray cray. But crazy is not necessarily a bad thing. Like humans, it comes in all shapes and sizes; some good and some evil. Some comes wrapped up in a Taylor-Swift-like disguise.
The way I see it there are two very distinct types of people in this world: people that know they are crazy and people who do not know they are crazy. Now, that might sound like a broad generalisation but I am yet to meet anyone in this life who does not border on being at least slightly deranged. And how do I know you’re mad? Because you’re here and everyone here is mad. Whether you are hosting the tea party or just dropping by for a quick scone and a waft of Earl Grey, it’s undeniable. We have all fallen down a rabbit hole at some stage and found ourselves knee deep in an obsessive pursuit of love, order or perfection. In order to find acceptance without judgement, we often surround ourselves with equally dysfunctional creatures forming our own hysterical tea-party themed support group. Safety in numbers dear Marchie, sanity is relative so as long as we are as crazy as the company we keep then no one needs to lose sleep over the difference between a raven and a writing desk.
So, we are all varying levels of crazy. Whether you are a level 5 or 500 crazy, the defining aspect of your malady is your level of awareness. I am more than happy to stand up and toast my insanity like the Mad Hatter in Wonderland, much preferring to be a mercury addled madman than a dozy dormouse or an insufferably ignorant Alice. If you remember, Alice – the tightly laced damsel – was tumbling in and out of reality, changing shapes and being wildly inappropriate at social events, all the while chasing some enigmatic white rabbit who had the sense to run for his life in the opposite direction. Even more fearful was the Queen of Hearts, who (much like your psycho ex) was bulldozing her way through the kingdom, decapitating anyone in sight. Of course no one is game enough to tell her she’s overreacting for fear of getting caught in the crossfire.
So as I explain, it’s not the knowingly mad ones you have to watch out for. Indeed, you should be wary of any one who is cracker enough to think they are sane. I give you fair warning that the more adamant someone is about not being insane the more likely they are to go full Jekyll on your arse. Much like an infant with a semi-automatic, they don’t know they are brandishing a powerful weapon so they are prone to start spraying crazy bullets over innocent by-standers.
It’s the big difference between Facebook stalking with your friends at brunch and hiding in the back seat of someone’s car, smelling their gym socks to work out if they’ve been training or off cavorting with some strumpet.
Crazy should never be taken lightly. Someone who is visibly crazy is a manageable risk, you can rely on them to be consistently loco and thus manage the element of surprise. If you’re dating Britney Spears, you know she’s going to be kookier than the Adam’s Family. But when you meet someone who seems very, very sane, almost normal… well, you can rest assured Mr. or Mrs. Hyde won’t last forever. One minute you’re brunching with the girl of your dreams then you’re bound and gagged in the boot of a car because that extra tang in your voddie soda was Rohypnol and not lime juice.
Beware that if things seem good to be true then they probably are. What was a bit of harmless fun with a nice and normal person sees you moving house and telling everyone you’re gay just to douse the crazy fire and stop the relentlessly stalking. You might end up with a girl whose love is like a candle: if you leave her, she will burn your house down. Or a guy who just cares about you so much that he goes full God Father on any life form with a Y chromosome and threatens to have them sleeping with the fishes.
These clueless crazies are left wondering “why me?”….. “I don’t understand why she felt the need to get a police involved. All I was trying to do was show her how much she means to me by disembowelling her stuffed animals.” Well perhaps, Sweet Cheeks, you are the constant and it’s your psychotic controlling nature; your wildly inappropriate social behaviour; disturbing levels of clinginess; or perhaps your complete lack of awareness or any or all of the above! “Why me”, you ask? Well, it’s because you’re a flipping psychopath.
Life is a tea party and whether we like it or not we are all a little bit mad. The only hoice you have is whether you accept it or not. If you’re reading this and wondering how many metres in 100 yards or whether a letter via carrier pigeon is in breach of a restraining order then perhaps you’ve fallen down the rabbit hole. Perhaps trying to understanding your own mental enigma is the first step toward being a much more favourable party guest.
So, happy revellers, if you are cray cray and you know it clap your hands. Tea and Crumpets all round.