Plus One

Sometimes, I feel as if I am going to explode. Or implode. Sometimes, I feel as if I want to love everybody in the world, have a huge orgasm, or mound of coke or ecstasy. Other times, I never want to leave the confines of blankness, anonymity, and virtual lifelessness. A place where I don't have to communicate with anyone, including my brain. Most of the time, I at least want to tell people to fuck off.

What is normal? And why does being honest with yourself either end up in the commission of a serious crime, a really good novel, the end of a friendship or relationship, or an educatory experience for others? Why does it have to affect someone else in order to be valuable?