Mechanically he who is not happy is gifted, he whose brain does not agree with the world is intelligent. The more brutally unfitting the person is, the more gloriously superior his brain is. In this undeniable logic lays the utter privilege of the crazies: that of being looked up to by the Parisian.
The inability to handle the vicissitudes of life testifies to the Parisian eye of an acute perception of the incertitudes and difficulties that make up life. Knowing that life is about incertitudes and difficulties is pure intelligence to the Parisian. Therefore, if they were to choose between being an irremediably unhappy creative genius or a perfectly happy nobody, most Parisians would opt for the grandiose life of misery. If misery is the price to pay for intelligence, Parisians are happy to open wide their happiness wallet.
The glory points of the craziness package do not come distributed evenly. Some afflictions score higher points than others. Schizophrenia for instance inspires much less admiration than beautiful depression. When afflicting upper class people, some mental afflictions stemming or resulting in self-destruction become psychological pantheons. Such is alcoholism.
The affliction Parisians look up to the most is insomnia. Parisians all wish they could claim for their bed to be crossed by the unstoppable train of the unresting thought. Parisians admire insomniacs for whom they truly are: people devoured by the discomfort of thinking. Insomia is the most elegant claim of the active brain. All Parisians wished they could be the victims of their fully ruling brain. Slaves to a cerebral monarchy. The fact that being an insomniac is pure torture is irrelevant.
Longing to being something or someone in Paris by no means relates to these desires being pursued in reality. What Parisians cannot get enough of is poetic aspirations. As much as they love them, they are happy with quite prosaic a life.
The crazy in the end is a lovely thought. A crazy to the Parisian is the living evidence that being a tad more intelligent than him equals craziness and misery. Really, the Parisian got lucky. That intelligent. Yet not crazy.
That was close.
Useful tip: If you are in Paris and suffer from a mental affliction, just start wearing unusual clothes and call yourself an artist. Maybe that’s your path.
Sound like a Parisian: « Ouais, ça va, j’ai un peu de mal à dormir en ce moment, mais ça va…».