Diary of a Psychotic [On Hold]

Prologue

"I want to die."

An eerie feeling washed over me as I realized how foreign such a familiar thought could taste on my lips. It was the dirty little secret that my mind had kept hidden from my mouth for years, but like a wild animal, it had clawed its way out of the locked box that I had buried it in, out of my control.

I had always thought my mind to be cruel to hold the relentless beast inside, to never allow for any release, and it was not until I felt each syllable of the acidic thought slowly burn all of the feeling from my tongue that I understood why I had fought so hard to hold it down. This was Pandora's box. The thought was poison, and yet, it seemed that time moved slower just for us, just so I could savor it.

I savored the way these words did not dissolve into the air like breath, ever fleeting. Rather, the thought broke down the barriers in my mind and clawed its way up my throat only to roll off of my tongue and dance in the air around me, to seduce me. The thought that made me feel empty had filled me up again because it offered a permanence that life never could.

I stared into the dirty piece of glass that stood in front of me and he stared back at me, this beast. He mimicked my every motion, but he did not breathe. And as if I were his snake, being charmed, he seemed to pull the words out of me again.

"I want to die," I said with more conviction that I had ever said anything else. The truth in that thought shook me, but there were no tears anymore.

His brown eyes glimmered and held mine until I thought that the tension would break the glass.

"Sh," he whispered, holding a finger to his lips, which curled into a mock grin. "Don't let your hands hear."