Madness

Madness is daring to be different from the majority:)

'Everyone is mad, indeed, the maddest are the ones who don't know they're mad, but keep repeating what others tell them to.

If people don't like it, they can complain. And if they don't have the courage to complain, that's their problem.

What's dignity? It's wanting everyone to think you're good, well-behaved, full of love for your fellow man. Have some respect for nature, watch a few films about animals and see how they fight for their own space.'

-extracts from Veronika Decides to Die

I feel that sometimes we are made to give way and be considerate so much that we lose a sense of self, so much so that we build up all our resentments inside because we want to be accepted as the 'correct' type of person, the caring, considerate type that the values of our society respect.

Yet, to what extent should we be obliging, considerate puppets who move at society's whims?

Granted, our characters are so developed that we naturally desire most of the things that society approves of- the effect of brainwashing from young, but do we give in to the incessant demands of a materialistic culture that threatens to reduce us to work ourselves to death buying useless, frivolous things that only serve to inflate our self-importance and soothe our growing egos?

And yet, on the other end of the spectrum, what if we become so selfish and inconsiderate, living for the betterment of ourselves, such we are reduced to animals, fighting, red in tooth and claw, heedless of the pain and suffering of those who are brainwashed by society to care about the detrimental effects of your actions- will we truly not be able to attain the care and concern that we crave and need when we are finally shunned by the majority?

Perhaps, hiding our madness is the best, because we live in this world. Would it be better to be labelled an eccentric, or be welcomed in every social circle that you come into, even as if you feel that your life is a never-ending act, and your true self is lost in the depths of your smiling facade, and your inner child is reduced from the loud-wailing at conception to tiny whimpers of sickness?