Through the eyes of crazy

I think that I am going completely mad.  No, that can't be it.  I have had this feeling of crazy in my gut for far too long to be only now "going mad".  No, it seems I've been traveling down this road for quite some time now.  The worn path looks all too familiar.  I recognize those tall, teasing trees lining the edge of the road.  I embrace myself for the sharp curves in the road long before I arrive at them.  The stale, bitter air tickles my nose with such fierce recognition that the hairs on my arms begin to stand at attention.
  Oh yes, I have ventured down this road of crazy several times.  It is a long, lonely, dark, and frightening road.  But it is my road to travel.  It is my own pathway that I have tried to escape many times, only to return to it.  Like a bad recurring nightmare, I hop aboard the train that slowly travels the bumpy, dirt path.  There are others on the train with me, but I cannot see their faces.  I cannot make out their features, or smell their scent, or reach out to touch them.  I know they are there, yet I am alone.  I'm always alone.  It is dark, and cold, and silent.  I try to scream.  Over and over I try to scream.  I hear the loudness in my head, but it does not escape my lungs.  It does not fall upon the ears of the others on the train, or the people watching me on the train travel by.
  I see up ahead there is a bridge.  I don't recall ever passing over this bridge before.  It is new to me, although even in the dark distance I can see that this is no "new" bridge.  The wooded planks are rotted, and held loosely together by thin, fraying ropes.  I can hear the creaking of the aging bridge as the wind begins to blow with anger.  The trees taunt me with their waving branches.  Are they waving hello, or good-bye?  Do they know something that I do not?  The angry wind whispers to the trees.  What is he saying?  Are they laughing at me?  The wind and trees dance with each other.  The wind leading the trees to follow the musical beat of the whispers.  I watch them tease me as my train approaches the bridge.  It begins to rain...... or are those only my tears falling down my cheek?  I need to get off this train.  I need to make it stop.
  Panic sets in as I realize I cannot escape.  It is my fate.  My fate is a life of madness.  A life sentence of crazy.  There is no emergency brake to press, no on/off switch, no door to close, or window to climb out of.  I'm on auto-pilot crazy as I head down the dirt runway to the faulty bridge ahead.