{"sf1_id":749150,"sf2_id":null,"title":"Crazy","author":"JPG816","words":285,"posted_at":"2014-08-26T12:37:00.000Z","tags":["Creativity","Vignette","writing"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/749150-crazy","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/view/749150","image_url":"https://www.sofurryfiles.com/std/thumb?page=749150\u0026ext=.jpg","description":"","content":"Sometimes, I sit here and ponder how my imaginary friend that I put on paper would act in response to an imaginary stimulus. How would combat would work if we could shoot flames from our fingertips? How much slowly immolating hate can a good man take before devolving into a mess of the shards of his former dreams? How can the world change if one person made the choice to say \"no more?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nSometimes these thoughts make me question if I'm nuts, if I've been hit in the head too many times, if I've been hitting the markers and glue too hard, if I should be locked up and confined with a strait jacket and a padded room.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nBut when I have those thoughts, I try to hang on with just my fingertips off the edge of despair, and cling to the last shreds of my sanity. My thoughts then turn to a familiar warmth embracing me.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nSometimes it's an arm around my shoulders and a pat on the back, telling me I did awesome, and I should have no regrets. The older sibling I never could find.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nSometimes it's a stern look and the thinly veiled impressed smirk. The father I never knew.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nSometimes it's the embrace as I tear up, crying into a woman's wonderful dress as she shares its cloth for me as if it were simply tissues. The mother that has left me.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nBut every time I remember these imaginary figments around me, I remember that my heart IS my home. I don't have to look anywhere else.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\nIf wanting to stay at home is crazy, I have no desire to be sane.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n  \n  \n\n"}