A Modest Introduction

     A thought is barely more than a figment of our own imagination, which is paradoxical in and of itself, but yet what else could it be?  A man of science once told me a thought was an electric impulse firing through nerve clusters, but this is not the essence of a thought.  I am not, at my core, robotic or mechanical.  And if a thought is naught but a fleeting charge, what could hope to interpret it?  Another fleeting charge?  There would be no end of thoughts trying to make sense of thoughts without being notions at all.  No.  A thought is more like a figment of imagination.  When I turn out the lights at night and leap into bed, my imagination has placed a creature of shadow in the room.  This allows, or forces, feelings.  Does this other-worldly creature exist?  Shall it consume me?  It may or may not.  Such is the nature of a thought.  In its constant flitting between existence and insubstantial reality, it may, at any point, consume me and drive me mad.  I have always been and shall always be a bit crazy, but as my thoughts drive me toward madness I must find an outlet for them.  I shall create an avenue that permits the vocalization of the ideas that would bring my sanity into question.  Feel free to join me on this journey, this, ascent from madness; that I may better understand myself.