In one of my favorite posts I’ve ever written (not necessary for understanding this post), I explained (through Soul Eater) my theory that everything in the human psychology comes back to the pure desire to live and to procreate. I then went on to explain that when you loose the fear of death and procreation, that is ‘madness.’ (there’s more details in the post if you’re interested, but you can understand this post just utilizing these terms.) In our current world, I think that everyone has pieces of madness and pieces of their primal desires – our society has no vision of these things, because we have judged humanity and the world on different terms (good and evil, for example) and we have both demonized as well as justified elements both of primal desire and of ‘madness’ as I put it.
If madness is to lack the fear of death or fear of never procreating, then I have some kind of madness as well as some kind of normalcy, and both of them seem to relate directly to anime. And I can’t really decide if the end result has anime making me more sane or more mad!
How has anime made me mad? I don’t seem to care about anything in life except for anime. It is because I am satisfied with anime that I don’t feel the need to strive for improvement in my life or to go and procreate. Ordinarily these things would be your chief goals, but I am focused only on anime. Moreover, I am convinced that if it were not for anime, I would loose the will to live. Without it, I don’t know what would really be left of me, because I am so consumed by it. If anime as a concept suddenly vanished from this world, I’d be lost like a newborn, and i don’t know that I’d survive the shock. The times in the past few years wherein anime had to take a backseat to other things in life were times where I became severely depressed and often suicidal at the drop of a hat.
However, this also means that anime is what is keeping me alive, right? If I become so depressed the moment I am separated from it, then that means that I’d be even more mad without it. Anime single-handedly pulled me out of a long-standing suicidal depression in 2007, and evidence has continually shown me that it’s the only thing keeping me out of that depression.
So which is it? Is it making me sane because it keeps me alive, or am I insane for staking my life on it? Society would call me insane for caring so much about it in the first place, and I wonder if their definition of insanity is as misplaced as I want it to be.
(Glad to see that the solitude and crazy sleep patterns are finally taking effect.) (By the way I got the idea for this post while replying to this great post by drmchsr0.)