On life and reality.

I think. That everyone is mentally ill. To a degree. That’s the nature of life. One can’t get through it. Without going crazy. Without doing nutty things. Everyone that I’ve known. Closely. Or intimately. Has had mental disorders. Indeed, that makes life interesting. Gives me the opportunity. To be a psychologist. A psychotherapist. A Freud, of sorts.  My mother. My father. My brother. My sister. My close friends.  My longtime associates. Even people I haven’t directly met. All show signs of mental instability. I have an overactive imagination. An indication of my own mental illness.  My imagination knows no limits. That can be dangerous, of course. But that’s always the peril of mental illness. Fortunately, most of us manage. To survive. And to cause no serious harm. To ourselves. And to others. But we also have lasting impacts. Often the result of our emotions. Everything from love to hate. Yes. Yes. I have life analyzed. Thereby, giving me a grasp. Albeit, an elusive one. On life and reality. --Jim Broede