Meandering the pathways of my broken brain

You would think that because medical science can’t tell me what caused my broken brain that I could live fairly quilt free with it. On the contrary, I find myself wondering what I’ve done to cause it and how much of an idiot I’m going to feel like when they finally figure it out.

<> Sometimes I’ll pause momentarily as I’m eating a piece of chocolate and wondering if this delicious addiction is the cause. I remember all the potentially “bad” things I’ve done to my body: the times I’ve taken diet pills; starved myself; drank a bottle of Goldschlager; slept too much; didn’t sleep enough. Could any of these things have caused my brain to break?

Or maybe it’s something else, something that is so much a part of my everyday habits that I don’t even consider the behavior too be potentially lethal? <> I know this is a specious line of thought. I don’t indulge myself in it often, but from time to time, I just can’t help meandering down this twisting path.