I'm thinking madness is a slow process like going down teeny, tiny stairs in really high heels. Some people get really good at it because they've had lots of free time to descend to it. Pick it up. Work it in their hands. Mold the madness to perfection. Anyone moving into madness too quickly is bound to mess it up and just be thought of as weird - not mad- which sounds much better. Plays out in other people's minds as something that can be forgiven. "She's mad, you know." As if there's nothing that can be done about it and she should not be pitied or ridiculed.
Madness is eccentric and interesting.
Weird is something people ignore or avoid.
The wierd one don't recieve party invitations. But the ones who are mad- they're the reason to throw a party. No one's ever sure when the mad one will appear or what clothes she'll be modeling. The mad ones give people something to discuss. The weird ones, easily dismissed.
Makes me want to try out the madness, sort of. But I'm not that fond of parties and my clothes need some pizazz. They are not really my clothes anymore. People have given me so many different shirts and skirts and pants and dresses, I have no style of my own. Not to say these clothes are unfashionable or hideous to wear. These clothes have kept me from being arrested for indecent exposure. I've never had frost bite or a sunburn, but they are not me. I would not chose these clothes from a sale rack or a yard sale. Too many browns. Not enough purple or flow around my ankles. I don't want to appear ungrateful, but I want my own style back so I bagged them up and sent them away. Maybe someone will buy them from the thirft store and wear them in a way that is unique and somewhat mad.
And I will wear the blue skirt, the purple skirt, the fairy skirt and a dress with suns and moons all over it. I will have to pull up the edges of these clothes when I walk up and down stairs but my shoes are flat or my feet are bare - just to keep the madness away a little longer.