I came across an article tonight while browsing through Facebook and it was terrifying. It was about these Russian Scientists who had supposedly found a specific gas that kept people awake indefinitely. So they tested it on 5 inmates or people they had chosen that were (enemies of the state) and told them if they stayed awake for 30 days they would be freed.

They locked them in a sealed room and began pumping this gas into it. After just a few short days the “inmates” began exhibiting weird behavior. By the time 15 days of sleep deprivation, they were all but mad. They had even begun eating their own flesh like zombies instead of the food they were provided. Their bodies even became unrecognizable to the Scientists.

They were little more than living breathing nightmares. Who after the Scientists decided they had had enough turned the gas off the “inmates” begged for it to be turned back on because they did not want to go to sleep. At this part of the story, I asked the question were they so intent on getting free they would risk everything even their humanity to be free? Or were they simply addicted to the noxious gas at this point?

Anyway, after the government took over and began testing the “inmates” as soon as they put them to sleep their hearts gave out and died one by one till there was only one left. Who begged and pleaded to be put back in the room and gassed. The governor obliged and as one military operative couldn’t stand to be around the “monster” he killed the governor and then attempted to kill the monster, saying he would not be locked in here with these things.

But before he did he asked the “monster” “what are you?” The thing that used to be just a man that was now some sort of beast looked up at the soldier and said simultaneously the most chilling thing I have ever heard and one of the most poetic. He said,


The story goes on to tell that this story is a possible hoax but the moral of the story is to get some sleep. However, I think this passage alone paints a different moral to the story.

We are all just animals trying to survive. How quickly we tend to forget that there is a certain madness to us all. Deep deep down there is a primal part of us that even we ourselves will not admit to, or see. We see this madness leak out and take over all the time. You just have to turn on the news to see it. It is by our will and the grace of God that the world is not plunged into chaos at every turn. I imagine this will be what the end of days are like brother, sister, mother, father, husband, wife, all falling prey to the madness that lurks inside of us. It will be the few that are strong enough mentally to be able to stand in the presence of God that will be forgiven for the ultimate sin of giving in to our basic human nature.

I get told I am crazy all the time, but very few have ever seen actual crazy. Being driven mad by your own thoughts. Your mind breaking and betraying you. Leading you into a false sense of freedom that will never truly exist. Watching as someone goes from loving and kind to an ax-wielding murderer. Witness the moment their mind snaps and fractures, never to be whole again.

It is a sobering thought that I have come close a time or two. To be able to say Fuck it and let the insanity take hold. Yet, I knew I would never be me again if I let it take me. So I clung to the thread of sanity I had and for what seemed like the millionth time became wholly me again.

I know what it takes to pull yourself back from the brink of insanity. I have stared down that particular abyss many a time. I don’t judge anyone’s inability to not pull themselves back from the brink. I just think there should be more of us that have come close, to be there for the ones that do. After all, we are all animals, just a different species is all.

The moral of the Russian story should be not to get more sleep, but to remember we are all driven to madness once in a while. It is what we do in those times that the darkness has become a reality that separates us from the rest of the animals in the world.



I was sitting in the hospital four days ago waiting for the results of my X-rays when the nurse popped in and asked me the most peculiar question. First, she told me that my foot had, had a piece of bone chipped off the 5th bone that connects to my pinkie toe. She was told to ask me if it was an old fracture as it appeared to be old. As I have never had this happen before I told her there was no possible way it was old. Plus the fact that my foot is purple and black and swelled up so bad it looks as if there is a softball under the skin it had to be a recent fracture right?

As they continued my treatment I was asked a couple more times by the X-ray tech and the Dr. if it was an old fracture. I was positive it was new and they set me up for a follow up in 3 to 5 days and sent me on my way.

What I neglected to tell them though was that by the time they asked a third time I wasn’t so sure anymore if the chipped bone was old or new. You see when I was young my mother was abusive once I remember having my head bashed into the carpet so many times I thought she might have broken my nose. After it happened she basically told me that she was sorry but that I shouldn’t push her to that point. Really? I was like 7 or 8. After several days of swelling, I forgot about the pain and the whole incident.

Then several years ago, over twenty years after the incident. I went to the Dr. for one thing or another and he took one look at my nose and asked how long it had been since it had been broken. All the pain and memories from that day came flooding back to me.

Fast forward to four days ago with the incessant questioning about a possible past fracture and I was right back there in the other Dr’s office finding out that my nose had indeed been broken before.

With my memory so splintered over a past, I have repeatedly tried to forget. Maybe it is just another memory lurking in the back of my mind. Waiting to be revealed when I least expect it. It sends a chill of fright down my spine to think there are memories I have suppressed or forgotten. Considering the ones I do remember are the stuff of nightmares.  How much worse can they get, honestly?

It just goes to show no matter how much you try to leave the past in the past, as they say, sometimes your memory will betray you. I have found though, past memories revealing themselves in small increments have helped me move on from them, and while it stung to think I had gotten another broken bone from my mother that I have no memory of it didn’t completely destroy me either. My friend stated that “the scars we receive as children, shape us into the adults we become.”  At first, I hated the thought of this concept but as yet, another layer of my past is peeled back like a scab on a dirty knee. I revel in it. These scars let me know I have been through something and I survived it.

I smile at each and every one of them because I am alive and for the most part of sound mind. I guess the scars we receive as children, really do shape us into the adults we become. It is just important to not let them break you in the end.

I guess I am, healing after all!


I woke up a few months ago with the overwhelming feeling that I was going to die. It was so bad for days I would start to hyperventilate for no reason. This feeling haunted me for weeks, I was sick to my stomach for the most of it. Then the feeling subsided and I just thought maybe I was finally cracking up and the feeling I was having was just a part of that.

Then recently, like in the last week, I stepped off the sidewalk in front of my house as I was heading for my car and my left foot went one way and the rest of me went the other. I scraped up my right knee and leg pretty bad but my left foot was fractured and bruised all to hell.

Four days later and it is still swollen horribly bad and the bruising has only gotten worse since. Everyone that knows me well has all chalked it up to me being a klutz, yet, it got me thinking about those couple of weeks I was paralyzed with the fear that death was upon me.

A shiver ran down my spine as I thought about all the things that have happened to me since then. I cut my hand shortly after and for the first time in my life had to have stitches, then in January, my car went off into a ravine due to the ice and snow, not a ditch, a ravine, and now this. All in a matter of five months. It feels as if death is just toying with me now. The really weird part is that I had a dream just two nights before my foot accident that I had sprained it and was on crutches. Was this some sort of premonition? As I am now on crutches.

Should I be afraid? Or this all just a big coincidence? Please let me know your thoughts on this anytime as with this new development sleep eludes me once again…


The sweat poured down her back in a RIVULET of saltiness. The sun rode the sky high now, a sea of angry red fire.

“Only two more hours of this crap”, she thought to herself. Only two more hours and then she could immerse herself in the man-made air conditioning.

She plunged her hands into the plant to retrieve the tangy fruit it yielded. The leaves scratched her weathered fingers for the umpteenth time she winced at the stabbing pain.

That didn’t help because the droplet of sweat that hovered just above her eyebrow rolled right into her cornea stinging the bejesus out of it. Which caused her eyes to water even more.

Now she had muddy streaks of tears rolling down her face and even more, sweat dripping down her face. “Hell can’t get much worse than this,” she thought as she finally located the sweet red fruit and pulled it off the vine.

she tossed it into the bucket and finally slowly and carefully used the inside of her flannel shirt to wipe her face. She never used to understand why she had to wear long sleeves in such scorching heat but the first time she wore a short sleeve shirt she ended the day with horrible itchy scratches all over her arms. Still carrying traces of said scratches she ached for some ointment or even a cold glass of iced tea.

Face clear as she could get it, for now, she moved her attention back to the task at hand. She grabbed the crate by each handle and scooted on her knees to the next bush. Through the hard-packed earth that had not seen rain in days, Now giant globs of what almost seems to be stone instead of just a clump of dirt. Her knees where surly cut and bleeding by now.

She repeated the previous step as she jammed her fingers into the bush to pull out the juicy red fruit once again. There were significantly more on this vine and as she pulled them off and began tossing them in her bucket her stomach began to growl.

Realizing she probably missed lunch judging by where the scorching sun was now located she grabbed up a nice fat extra red ripe one and stuffed one end into her mouth. It was instant ecstasy. The red fruit was sweet yet tangy the juices mixed with tiny tons of little seeds dribbled down her chin as she devoured the entire thing in a couple of bites.

Now sticky she didn’t care as she smiled at the seemingly endless row ahead. Revitalized, from the nourishment it provided, giving her the strength to continue she whispered, “who knew tomato picking could be so much fun!”


She must have been a little to VAGUE in her request for death. Technically she did die but the EMT’S sure knew what they were doing and brought her back.

Now she walks around life dead inside but not on the outside. A ghost of shell of who she once was.

She prayed for death long before it came to her and she laughs at the irony that she is still here.

All twisted up inside amd craving death’ s sweet embrace more than ever. He is a fucking tease.

They say near death experiences change you for the better but all she felt was an empty hole where her soul once resided.

To chicken to do herself in for good. She waits with bated breath until death comes knocking again…

<a href=””>Vague</a&gt;


I didn’t have anything this weekend so I thought I would just add a couple of poems I found with the two word of the day daily post words. Here goes yesterday’s was MALLET:


And here is the today’s word of the day PARTAKE:


<a href=””>Partake</a&gt;



<a href=””>Mallet</a&gt;


I FRET over everything. Am I a good mother? Will I lose my job to downsizing? Is my husband happy in our marriage? Are my kids happy? Are my friends happy their my friends? When the world ends what will I be doing at that moment? Do I have enough money for groceries? How will I pay off the debt I have acquired? Will I get sick, again? Even down to the little things like. When do I get gas? Should I do it now or wait until morning?

Most people would call that a “worry wart”. Some have even blamed it on me being a Virgo. I worry because I need everything to be perfect they say.

I just think it is all a part of being an adult I truly believe the more you worry the more of an adult you are.

I can’t help worrying about the mortgage, or the kids, or the groceries. We gotta eat, right?

I spent so many years stressing over every little detail of my life. I forgot about myself. I stopped worrying about my clothes, my hair, even my hygiene at times, as long as everyone around me was okay.

Then something astounding happened. I realized I had disappeared and that was unacceptable to me.

I mean I had dreams once, goals in life and I had traded them all in for everyone else’s happiness. Why?

So I began the long journey of becoming me again. Some couldn’t understand it. Others chose to ignore it but I am happier than I have been in my entire life. So…

Bottom line is never let yourself disappear in the wake of someone else’s happiness. That hill to climb back up to you is a bitch.

FRET about you first because, in the end, everything else will work itself out…

<a href=””>Fret</a&gt;