"A man needs a little madness or else he never dares to cut the rope and be free."
-- Nikos Kazantzakis
Inside each of use is an inner psychopath waiting for the right moment to explode. All of us can remember such moments. You step into a crowded elevator. The eyes of another passenger find your own and flick away. The doors close. You find yourself enveloped in the stale mouthwash of social convention. Each person is silent and rigid, facing forward, intently watching the panel of illuminated numbers as they flicker from floor to floor. As the silence thickens, you are drawn to a secret part of yourself that itches for release, that swells with the desire for rupture: your inner psychopath.
When you open up to your inner psychopath you step into a new dimension of personal freedom. Turning to face your fellow passengers, you might say, "We never talk. Don't you think it's time we had a talk? I think it is. So listen up. Yo, losers, look at me, and listen the fuck up! Do you fuckin' get it, or what? Can't you see what's happening here? Make some human fuckin' contact, for chrissakes. You! Yeah, you. Say hello, real nice. Now you. Nice and easy buddy. No fast moves, or it's sweet bye-bye. That's good, real good. We're not talking fuckin' robots you know! We're free, self-realizing social fuckin' organisms! OK? So let's start acting like it, goddammit! All right, I feel better, don't you? I know you do." By sharing with others in this way, you honor the many voices held within you. By staying open to your inner psychopath, you keep the rest of your personality on its toes.
I'm not insane, but parts of me are.
Reprinted with permission from "Daily Afflictions" by Andrew Boyd, published by W.W. Norton. To order a copy, click here
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