I’ve always had a penchant for attracting toxicity. If there is a messed up soul out there, something in my energy field — in my magnetics, will call it towards me. Sometimes I think it’s the maternal instinct in me that wants to fix things; people specifically. Sometimes I think it’s just that rebel in me that wants to be enveloped in the weird and different. And then there are the times that honestly I think I just craved a little bit of good ol’ drama and chaos.
I think we’ve all known Crazy at some point or time. Some call them bad boys, or crazy bitches. Toxic, sick, twisted, bent. Psychotics is usually more point on. Sometimes there is a fire in the eyes. Sometimes they lull you with the snake inside of them. Most of the time – you can never really shake them. I think after my years of dealing with enough of these, that I’ve figured this out; Crazies don’t think they are nucking futz. I think, Crazies think they are the smart sane ones, even when the entire world is screaming at them otherwise. And no sooner do you think they’ve left your life, then theeeeeyyyyyyy’rrre baaaacccccckk! Before you can say WTF, they’ve struck out at you like an unleashed rabid Chihuahua, while you’re holding your ankle asking where the fuck that came from.
They aren’t hard to notice if you really look. Generally they have limited long term friendships. Because they have burned everyone in their past. They might have a parent or sibling, or lost cause friend that holds on because of time, but the rest of their family wants little to do with them too. They always have new wonderful friends or partners that they parade around like mad, screaming into the wind that the love of the new validates they are good. But they never last. Most of all? They are always the Victim.
The smart people sense them immediately and at the best watch them from a far. While we think we are awesome for dancing so close to the Crazy fucking fire, the smarties are watching our hair and fingertips get singed, and quietly shaking their heads, No. Those of us lulled into insanity might think we are invincible as we drink the Crazy drink and dance the Crazy dance. We are invincible at that moment. We are capable of taming the Crazy shrew. Or is it them, taming and training us? Learning our weaknesses and secrets. Stockpiling for the day you try and leave?
No matter the case or cause, once you start in with someone of this ilk, there is always a price. You might think everything is on your terms, but Crazy knows – it’s in charge. I’ve known it in both sexes, but it can be the women with who can make it the worst. It starts small. Maybe white lies. Lies that for all intense and purposes make no sense. Like there is no outcome you can rationalize. But there is a reason. It might be 17 steps ahead of where you aren’t even at. There are traps laid out all over the place, just in case. The lies can become more outrageous, until you just want out.
Sometimes I quietly slip out the back, Jack. Sometimes it ends in rage and words or absolute fucking incredulous eye popping wonderment. Sometimes …. It takes a well-placed elbow or knee to the proverbial crotch before you trot off.
Because for whatever measures that I attract, crave or didn’t always repel on accidental-purpose these types; my mother did raise a level headed child, who understood we need to grow into level headed adults. Those adults deep down understand the difference between true crazy and crazy fun. Fun knows when the party is over but what the heck, may want to stay for one more drink. Crazy on the other hand, wants to move in and become your best everything and paint your god damn apartmentandcookyourmealsandandand… Immediately. This would make anyone apprehensive – Warning Bells have been ringing but the cotton is shoved so far down your ear canals, you’re just now hearing it. Absolutely nothing good comes from too much crazy. I’ve been lucky in dodging the bullet Neo-in-Matrix style, as it came whipping past my head. Time to go. NOW. The party is O-V-E-R. You can only hope to extricate yourself from the tentacles that you hadn’t really noticed were slowly closing around your limbs and getting the fuck out of Dodge.
Those who want to keep the Crazy around, even after knowing what the outcome is — I tend to think they have their own agendas. Maybe it’s the flattery of being part of the Crazy World. Maybe it’s the attention. Maybe it’s Crazy sensing Crazy. Like long lost Dr. Seuss creatures, who will only recognize their own species.
If you keep one of those around, the friend of the Crazy – chances are you’ll once again get burned. It might be accidental. I might be accidentally on purpose. Maybe it will be an ember, or maybe just a hot ash, or maybe, just maybe — a terrifying full backdraft will meet you at a closed door. Cause Crazy never forgets.
Fortunately, neither do I.