Tug of War

The fragile line that separates sane and insane seethes at the far corners of the brain, in the darkest of regions and then as if to taunt, they play games. The victim stands in the middle while overwhelming clouds of thoughts are tossed back and forth, getting heavier and impossible to dodge with each throw until the mind reaches the peak of saturation and suddenly....... precipitation, of the boulder- like hail blasting kind. There is no shelter from this of storm and so the victim cowers, hovers and screams as each blow is dealt harder than the one before. Weighed down by the bricks of distortion, the foundation quivers and now the soul buckles. Insanity flashes a blinding red light, and the line of separation dissipates some more.

In the victim's favour, however, and grace to an insomniac mind, another thought lunges forward. This time, the victim retreats and walks along a sloping shoreline close to the cerebellum of the brain, with feet sinking into the black sea sand. There she encounters a shell, and the victim stops to marvel. How oddly satisfying, with its crooked, coloured lines, and peculiar shape, it piqued her interest. Despite its anomalous look, it glowed. It beckoned. No sooner though, than the victim reaches down to scoop up the shell, she hears the rush of a wave, an intrusive thought was lurking. The victim feels the warm embrace of the brackish, white foam around her feet. Her mind jolts and rushes to escape being captured by the wave's coveting pull. Unfortunately, the victim's hands fling wildly and out gambols the shell. 

She becomes frantic in its search and now she starts to see the line of distinction even less clearly. At this point, she just imagines it is there. A chokehold ensues and now she cannot breathe, they have come to put on her chains. The victim has crossed over, much to the satisfaction of the mind, it has her just where it wants, in the realm of obscurity and insanity. When they come to take her away, she looks around desperately but none of the parts of her brain were eager to enter this battle.

As they march her onward, to lock her up in the most remote part of her mind, never to emerge as herself again, something tugs steely, splattering blood and the victim's chains are pulled. The victim gets closer to realize that it is the open embrace of her heart, bearing the eagerness to forgive. In the same breath, insanity tugs, as violently as possible, and the victim is hurled back to the other side of insanity. The heart tugs again, and this time, its arteries formed their own chains and wrapped the monster of insanity in such a tight bind, that it pleaded for its release. 

The heart hands the victim the pliers, and she severs the heavy chains. She sits like a child in the bosom and lets the blood of forgiveness and healing wash through her veins. The heart reminds her that whenever life gets heavy, and whenever the mind comes out to play its treacherous games, that she must remember who the guardian of her soul is. It whispers, "Be anxious for nothing." The victim smiles.