I worked hard to make sure that the next meal came. When it arrived I counted the calories and checked the cholesterol content, conscious of my waistline and my heart. Fearing my health is threatened; I enrol in a weight loss programme and start to starve myself in the midst of abundant tasty food.

I struggled to fill my ward robe with fashionable cloths but going out is a nightmare because I don’t have “what” to wear. I stand in front of my wardrobe and condemn my entire cloths one after the other. Too bright! Too dull! Too long! Too short! Too dressy! Too casual! Outdated! Stage costume! What was I thinking when I bought this? I definitely need a change of wardrobe!

I fear it’s not safe anywhere anymore. I install the most up to date modern security gadgets and by 6pm I switch them all on and lock down. I worry that the fence is not high enough and the gate not reinforced enough. I don’t keep money at home. I scan ATM premises wondering if someone is lurking close by to trail me. Banking halls have become shooting ranges where armed robbers exhibit their marksmanship with machine-guns.

I used to be like that when I was mad. Mad about food. Mad about cloths. Mad about security.

Now I sleep wherever the night comes upon me. I eat anything I find and I wear whatever I like and if I feel so inclined I sunbath in the nude right at the middle of the road. I call it freedom, they call it madness. Who is the mad one then?

Image by ninahale via Flickr