Life's normal. I have a brother and sister and a sister on the way now so of course I'm happy...but that doesn't mean I'm ok. I still love to sing but not the old worship and Michael Jackson songs I would when I was smaller. Songs of anger and rage and evil.
Remember that because it'll be important in a later chapter.
I'm starting to see those shadows more frequently and it's annoying because I'm starting to think I have bad eyesight or something. Not to mention the nightmares and fits of anger I'm starting to have.
It started at 7, the fits I mean. It took place for the first time when I was staying the night over my aunt's house. I was asleep but wasn't dreaming, and then it struck. It felt like pain but it didn't hurt physically. I was angry but at nothing at all. I was screaming in pain but what for? I couldn't sleep and I had to cover my ears. It was completely quiet and no one was awake so why did it feel like I could hear someone speaking but no one was there. I couldn't talk or get up or ask for help from anyone in the room with me. My uncle woke up and was asking me what's wrong but the sound of his voice only made things worse. I cried and screamed and scratched at my arms in rage but nothing helped as my small mind felt like it was being torn apart. Now These fits happen more frequently except I don't cry anymore because it makes it worse and I don't scream anymore because no one can help. I just hold my ears and try to drown out the voice that's not there. But later through the months things get worse and now that whispering speaks while I'm awake. In class it speaks, when I'm with family it speaks, when I'm alone it speaks. Not everyday but enough for me to know I'm not safe from it anymore. I'm slowly losing my mind more and more and I try to tell people, family and friends and even teachers but no one believes me. I'm alone with this voice and these shadows and no one can help me. The nightmares get worse. Death, fear, blood, pain. That's all these nightmares are full of. When I tell people my nightmares they call me crazy or psycho. I hated it. No one would help me, and I started to realize no one could.
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My Painful Insanity
Non-FictionBefore I tell you people anything I want to let you know this is not fake and even with that being said, I don't need or want anyone's sympathy. This is me telling a group of non believers what it's like to feel like you're going insane. I've always...
