I am not insane. It is the world that is insane. Am I the only poor soul who sees that the world is full of madness? Day by day they live their lives and never once stop to see the sun set in the meadow. Never once do they watch the sun rise behind the lake. Never once do they climb atop a large hill at night and witness the illumination from each star’s soul. They pay no attention to the crows feasting in the fields. They ignore the bastard child hugging his mother’s leg. And they do not grow quiet and look when a sane man is screaming in agony, because he does not know which hurts more. The bleeding wound where his earlobe used to be or the piercing stares of all the mad people who won’t leave him alone.
I see them. I am not ignorant of those things, and it pains me when people are. I need to show them. They must view my work! Pay is not needed; just attention. I remember standing in the streets along side my humble artwork, which I hope to show to the world. People pay no attention. I am ridiculous and foolish to them and they don’t even care about that. They give me beggars money sometimes, but all that tells me is they are too good for my paintings. I hate them for not noticing it! They are crazy. No one understands my pain, my sanity because they are the opposite. To them I am nothing. A man named Vincent.
I am alone now. I think about this world that disgusts me. This insane world that won’t leave me a lone and I hate it. I’ve decided not to stay. The man who sold me the pistol gave me an arrogant look when I asked him if I could sell him my art to pay for the gun. I had just enough money when I bought it. The money had two possible uses. It could buy food, which would keep me a live and continue the pain, or it could buy a tool to kill me and end the pain. The choice is obvious isn’t it? For a sane man, I chose the smart path. I remember when my cruel life started. As a boy I led a normal life, that was the only time in my life when I was insane and ignorant like everyone else. Finally, thank God, my eyes were opened and I became aware of the beauty of the world. Unfortunately in order to see the beauty you also must see the evil. It was autumn and my parents weren’t around. I played by myself a lot, and often went exploring. This day lives in my memory as the day innocence lost itself in me. Leaves littered the ground around a large tree near my house, which I had never explored before. When I approached I saw a chipmunk scamper up the trunk. It was a pretty broad trunk, about 4 feet around. I got closer and rested my hand on the chipped bark as I walked around the side of it. A tombstone stood before me. It was strangely out of place and I was more bewildered than frightened. It was only after I read it that I became frightened. It said my name, Vincent Van Gogh. I looked below the name and saw the day of death was about one year before my birth. I am sure I do not need to tell you how I felt. Especially being as young as I was. I was terrified by this symbol of death bearing my birth name.
I grew up and moved away from home. I was too sane to stay with my parents forever. I wanted out if you know what I mean then don’t criticize me when my life led to a path of failure. It was not my fault I was born normal in this crazy world. Through out my years I never spoke out to someone about the world because they would not understand a clear-minded view. I escaped my parents, only to find my uncle. It was at least one step closer to where I wanted to be in life. I found refuge from this insane world with God. Being close to him would help give me strength fore I knew hard times were ahead. I’ll tell you though its not easy to be close to God.
