I once dated someone who was manic; he said things like this. I felt sane, but that could very well mean I was crazy.
I never considered myself a cynic. I was a realist, looking out for myself because no one else would, proud to be a guarded, wary New Yorker. But now I understood that everyone, really, was my side, because I lived on a benevolent planet that had a vested interest in my continued existence. We needed each other, the universe and I, God and I, and so I wasn't alone, and would never be. It felt like falling in love--literally, as if someone had dropped me without warning into a big vat of goodness.
Post a Comment