Having disabling mental illness is interesting. Insanity is brilliant at times. Feeling like you own the world feels pretty damn good, but makes it hard to function. However, what really makes it hard is the anxiety, the gloom and anger.
I wish I was a rich eccentric and that I had fine house and servants. I could be free in my madness. Nothing that I disliked would be in my house. I would have so many pets and I would not be alone. There would be none of those god awful lights so many stores have in them and no loud noises beyond music when I wished it.
Sadly, I’m stuck in the real world, with all of its lights and colors and noises and crowds. So many things I can’t escape. I have no choice but to live in the city, because the very thought of driving leaves me weak with fear and worry. Oh, but the crowds, they can’t be escaped and they press in on you, smothering you. People are… They are so fucking loud and pushy. Putting on a mask takes all I have. Pretend to be normal so they don’t see the animal I am. Can’t break down and yell at them to make it stop, that simply wouldn’t do. I’d be locked away again.
So, I smile and take my pills and pretend to be human, to be one of them. Some of them, the ones with a touch of madness, they seem to understand. Their friendship is a blessing, an anchor. Prehaps, one day, I’ll find someone touched with insanity as well. They won’t shy away and we’ll burn and melt together.
But, as you can see, these are all just the ravings and dreams of a complete lunatic. Prehaps now that you’ve had a glimpse, you’ll shy away as well. That’s for the best, because I tend to drag others down and I know that once you see what I am, you’ll never treat me quite the same again.