Mental Illness and Creativity

I can only assume I must suffer from some mental illness because I seem to be far different from others. Whereas most other people seem content to allow themselves to settle into some comfort zone in their life, I am constantly pushing the envelope, breaking through boundaries and exploring deeper aspects of existence.

I am never content. I feel this deep desire to constantly know more about the world. Unfortunately, in my process of learning more, I also learn that there is ten times more that I don't know. In essence, my pursuit for knowledge is the constant realization that the world -- the universe -- is an exponential downward spiral of continuously expanding and ever deepening knowledge. This morning I wanted to look up one thing on Wikipedia. However, I found myself three hours later looking up a few dozen more articles that were related to the original by a string of almost irrelevant connections.

I accept the fact that I am most likely mad. I occasionally hear voices from the shadows. I hear my name being called a lot. If I were slowly slipping into the depths of insanity, I would have to admit that there is a rather romantic side to that fall. I have been told most of my life from counselors and teachers that I am very passionate about knowledge. I spent the better half of my time in nursery school running around the playground trying to find the heir to King George III because someone had whispered that there was nobility present on the playgrounds. When I was a toddler, I remember this being called "lala" visiting me. It was a small, microphone shaped being that would ask me questions about my time on Earth, etc.

If I do suffer from some type of mental illness, it would make sense. The people I respect most in history all had to fight demons. Van Gogh, as gifted as he was, constantly battled depression and the pangs of insanity. However, his mental illness was most likely the source of his extreme creativity. I am also extremely creative, but look at the world very differently from most people.

My mind constantly races with thoughts and ideas. Even during college, I would completely zone out during a lecture and start constructing the most beautiful and eloquent ideas only to be interrupted with, "JASON! HELLO? It's your turn to read, buddy!" I would be the source of laughter all too often throughout highschool because of my eccentric ways.

Sadly, most people don't seem to appreciate the diversity of knowledge, the compassion of shared experiences and the silly nature of existence itself. I've been called weird, eccentric, stupid, crazy, arrogant, egotistical, cocky, stubborn and a host of other adjectives because of misinterpretations of my being. I have a handful of friends who do know me on a deeper level and know that I would give every last penny that I owned and every last bead of sweat or tear to help another person in a time of need.

I'm just weird. I have accepted who I am. It seems to create a great divide among the people that know me. I either have extremely loyal friends or extremely determined enemies, but there is very little in between. I guess that means I may be doing something right. I would never want anyone who meets and gets to know me to develop neutral feelings. I respect those who fiercely hate me as much as those who adamantly love me.

I am who I am. Bill Cosby once said, "I don't know the key to success, but the key to failure is to try to please everyone." That statement holds a lot of truth. You have to be willing to be the person that you are -- including all your faults along with your best traits. Those who remain your friends are there for you for your entire life. Those who choose to be your enemy most likely do so because they see some aspect within you that reminds them of some aspect of them -- and some people aren't as comfortable with carrying imperfections as someone who is -- let's just say ... bordering on insanity.

If and when the time comes, I'll cross that line. The world possesses infinite beauty. At some point, a mind capable of perceiving infinity will try to do so and that is the moment when someone tries to wear the shoes of God and trips violently on his own face.