There’s a life span limit to Support Groups, my psychiatrist later told me, after a psychologically brutal and robust fucking around with your head going on at that time. Everybody in the Circle’s Head was being fucked around with then. Between a Borderline Chic, another who claimed he was Bipolar, but he was far scarier than that, then the one who kept boasting about his Cutting, making sure he showed his scars to anyone who bothered to talk to him, and finally, the true casualty, the lonely 35 year old spinster who was wooed by the guy who bragged and snared her into his nest for Eternity. Cucumber Man was in retrospect the precursor of my eventual split with this group of misfits.
So why are we such misfits? Well, the reasons are far too numerous to list, unfortunately, and each reason is unique, so you can kind of put it all together and try to imagine it, but you never will completely. Thus they fall under the category of Infinity – at least for now. So you might call us The Brilliant Ones, or The Brilliant Losers. You’d be surprised by the things we are – and do – capable of producing, but we are totally out-of-whack with the rest of the World. We are … The Crazy Ones.