When I Will Have Been Declared Insane

 When I will have been declared insane, I would have successfully demonstrated that restoration, not renaissance has always been the answer. The old rules still apply, as they always have, regardless of the ever-encroaching onslaught of awareness that indiscriminately reveals everything about everything, laying bare all the playbooks, that disenchants to the extent of bringing out only the viscerally primal, simultaneously sustaining and entrenching it, all the while signaling for good, old-fashioned virtue at every turn.

When I will have been declared insane, it would be a rebellion against the socially acceptable forms of insanity: the anarchistic, the deviant, and the revolutionary kind which has already been sensationalized enough to be normal.

When I will have been declared insane, I would have proven that the true norm is yet to be consciously arrived at, with the scramble to attain it all the more necessary.

When I will have been declared insane, I would be charged unscrupulously by the heralds of maturity and wisdom who would lambast me at length for not being sensible enough to make peace with the liminal spaces that so keep us grounded, and which are the flag-bearers for fluidity of the rigid and true which in turn shall be instead denounced as extreme and oppressive. I would have bested all demons in that they would have to insulate themselves among the innumerable mouths of inadequacy and lack, which would open only in sheer contempt.

When I will have been declared insane, I would have been a voice for the disenfranchised constantly resisting the hypocrisy of alternating positions depending upon advantage and strategy, battling to reconcile the innumerable inconsistencies all at once, to end up becoming the subject-matter of the grandiose dog-whistle aptly labelled as 'mental illness'. 

When I will have been declared insane, I would have shown that the inmates need not always be in charge of the asylum.

When I will have been declared insane, I would have inadvertently set forth a chain of events leading up to it beforehand, with the knowledge that it was I who definitively assured the victory of sanity.

Alack, it was I who leaped at the Sun

To give it my loving friends to keep!

Nought man could do, have I left undone:

And you see my harvest, what I reap

This very day, now a year is run.

There's nobody on the house tops now--

Just a palsied few at the windows set;

For the best of the sight is, all allow,

At the Shambles Gate--or better yet,

By the very scaffold's foot. I trow.

I go in the rain, and more than needs,

A rope cuts both my writs behind;

And think, by the feel, my forehead bleeds

For they fling, whoever has a mind,

Stones at me for my year's misdeeds.

Thus I entered, and thus I go!

In triumphs, people have dropped down dead.

"Paid by the world, what dost thou owe?

Me?"--God might question now instead,

'Tis God shall repay, I am safer so.

                                                                                (Robert Browning, Patriot into Traitor)