Is he crazy?

Dear Parents of the estranged and brutalistic mind:

I’ve never been here. Not really.

It’s funny, you know, when people comment on my livelihood and my creativity. I’m not creative. I steal. I’ve done nothing but steal over the past several years of my life, because here, on earth, I’m not. I’ve never been truly alive here.

Whenever I walk somewhere my mind is slowly filtering out reality, and I get so lost in my dream worlds and fantasies that I travel far away, towards the ends of oblivion, creating battles and heroes and knights and maidens who all cry out to me to come and finish their stories. I think, in this way, I’ve gone a little insane. Just a little crazy, crazy enough to ravish myself with words and histories that revolve and conspire and end at a single focal point; my mind.

Before you justify yourselves with doing the right thing and ripping away the outlet; let me say only this: this did not start in a month.

Rings around my eyes? They’ve been there for centuries. The horsemen and the slaughtered in my imagination simply existed since I awoke from a shell. I’ve always talked to myself, walked funny, been isolated, lifted myself higher than I truly am in order to seize the day and become someone who I’m not, someone who I can never truly be. And that is the true crime.

This did not start recently, but was always revolving, spinning on an axis.

So, when you block the source of the outlet, when you bar my mind of fully putting fingers to keyboard and writing out these fantasies until they spill onto the page, I feel as though a character, all of my characters, have suddenly washed away. I can hear their sorrow, their unanswered, undeveloped stories flow through me.

And I cry.

I cry from exhaustion and I cry from truly feeling as though I have been wronged. I cry because I know that deep down you both are right, and that maybe this time I’ve gone too far, delved too deep into my fantasies and friends and a world that is NOT REAL, but is at the same time.

I should be thanking you, but I am too tired, too close to tears to make the words burst forth, and so they will stay on this page.

Thank you.

-Chris (Your son)

((Let me know what you think))

Insanity....Insanity....Sanity is for the insane, insanity is for the sane, my words may speak to you, as we share views of our characters.

Impressive. I am sure that this will accomplish your goal, which I assume to be preventing you from RP'ing.

As for my view on what you actually speak about, I agree. I feel the same (if to a slightly lesser extent) about what I write, create, design. And specifically to you, Masslz, it is likely that you will become a great writer.

It's very interesting...
I think that all writers can feel that sometimes, that they are going a little insane, being caught up in nothing but the fantasies of the stories they tell...

I think it was put in a very creative way, though. Wonderful.