So when you see me questioning everything about me and analyzing the fuck out of all that exists, know this: I do it because I have to. The instant I let my guard down disaster crashes in and mayhem ensues. I admit, I like a little chaos, but it's usually going on around me, not always in me. In a strange way it makes me feel at home, comfortable, like an old friend I used to get drunk with. It's ok to visit but I wouldn't want to stay too long, my inebriated brain might get stuck.
I play with fire and flirt with the boundaries most people shy away from. It's in my nature to do things that are a little bit crazy, for if I don't I forget I'm alive, and I end up in a mundane existence. Half of the time I wind up regretting it, but even if I regret it I appreciate what it offers back in return which is some semblance of learning. How much in life do we do without even knowing it? My free flowing style of living leaves me brimming with experiences of every kind. If I was only full of good and successful intentions my writing would be boring and untruthful.
And all of this, it makes me a deviant philosophical heathen. You've been warned.