How knitting made me go insane

My mind yelled "Michaels is open!!" 
My body quivered with excitment as the smell of creativity filled my nostrils.
Boom!  The colors ran through.
My eyes were filled with wonder and excitement.
"All the possibilities are endless", I chimed.
As a child awes at the first discovery of Santa Claus, so was I.
I eagerly looked through aisles
Trying to decide
"Shall I paint?  Shall I knit?"
Canvas after canvas
Sketchbook after sketchbook.
I am adorned with crafts and imagination.
Stickers and stamps
Ribbons and bags of wedding decor.
Cake ornaments.
I make notes "Those brownie cutters for the movie night meeting"
As I come across the aisles trying to decide my move of attack
I see my destiny.
I see the calling.
I see - YARN!
Rows and rows of yarn at my disposal.
Organic (huh?), baby yarn and bright-colored yarn.
Books and needles hanging from the shelves.
At that moment, I decide to learn how to knit.
So what?  Men don't knit?  Bulls**t!
I was going to change the stereotype.
MEN - CAN - KNIT!
I race home with my How-To kit in my bag.
I pick up just one black, ebony-colored ball of yarn (on sale, of course).
I sit and ponder.
The scarf I will make.  Delicious it shall be.
Follow the instructions - penciled illustrations.
Failure.
Again, cast on, simple knit, continental...strange language filling my foggy brain.
Failure.
Two hours later - PSYCHOSIS!
Moral of the story?
Maybe crocheting is my calling.