Creepyskullz Book Of Creepypastas

I Wish I Were mad (Insane)

It's a long story, but I hope you'll take a moment to hear what I have to say.

I was never very good at making friends.

My parents died when I was young: a horrible car crash. My father was decapitated and my mother impaled by a set of 24 rebar poles after a construction truck hit the head on.

The event left me secluded from the rest of the world. I couldn't interact with others no matter how hard I tried and it brought me to the brink of what I was sure was pure insanity. Then one day as I was contemplating whether or not to cut my wrists in my bathroom when I got home, he showed up.

His name was Kyle.

From that point on Kyle and I became best of friends. We would go on to hang out on weekends, talk, and even get jobs in the same hospital.

My life was turning around, and thanks to Kyle I had begun to open up to the world little by little. Eventually I met a sweet girl and fell in love. We got married, made love, and had a kid. I was getting what seemed like promotions and raises every day. The best part was that in the beginning I only had to come in two or so days a week!

Everything was well.

Then one day as I was chatting up with Kyle I recommended that he come over to meet my wife. He was hesitant but I forced the matter and the date was set for him to join us for dinner.

The night I brought him over and introduced him, my wife had a perplexed grin on her face and said nothing to him the whole way through supper.

When we were done Kyle thanked my wife awkwardly for the meal but instead of answering him she continued to look at me almost as if I had betrayed her. My son was also crying from his crib in the other room which made the whole exchange very unsettling.

I whispered to my wife that she should have been a little more hospitable and proceeded to see my friend out. Walking Kyle to his car he told me he had a wonderfull time, but just as he was about to leave he looked me straight in the eye.

With a tone of sorrow he said, "I'm sorry. You really shouldn't have done that", started his car, and drove off.

Since then I could feel my wife getting further away from me. Distant. Sometimes she would completely ignore me whenever I was talking, while other times she would just leave in mid sentence.

Hours at my office began to get tougher, and after awhile it got to the point where I had to essentially live there in order to deal with my deadlines. To make matters worse the office was also downsizing and I got moved to a small room with no windows and one door, but even then I still loved my job.

I continued to have my daily chats with Kyle, but every once in awhile people would peak into my room. Through the window in my office door I would see 4 or 5 people in white jackets every day.

The routine was always the same. They would look in to see me talking to Kyle, check something off on there notebooks, and scamper off.

I questioned Kyle about them, but he told me to pay them no mind. He looked at me with a sullen face, shook it off, and we continued about our conversation, which was about how well my life was going. After a couple weeks of these chats Kyle came to my office and told me that he would be going on a very long trip and that we were going to have to put a hold on our conversations. When I asked when might he be back he shook his head and said he wasn't quite sure and then left.

Then one day I awoke to a room I had never seen before.

The walls around me were made of concrete. There were no windows and the only objects in the room were a bed, desk, and heavy metal door. I screamed and screamed for someone to come and get me out and ,eventually, a person showed up.

I recognized him as one of the people who often looked at me in my office. I saw him rush over to the window in the door proclaiming of someone who had come through with a some sort of break-though.

I asked how long I had been in here and for him to release me immediately.

He looked at me and said that I would finally have a chance of leaving this place for the first time in 4 years if my meds kept up. I had been insane.

Surely this wasn't possible, but then I realized what must have happened.

Kyle.

I started to break down and weep. After everything I had been through only to find out that my best friend had been a figment of my imagination. I was destroyed.

Over time , however, the idea of my situation slowly fell into place in my mind. I learned that I had been seeing help for my problem only 2 to 3 days a week before I was put into fulltime care so that the medical professionals could evaluate my condition more thoroughly, and that I never really had a job at a hospital office.

Within the month, I was ready to go home.

All of the doctors lined the hall towards the exit and clapped for me on the day I was finally released. I was tired but satisfied. If there was anything that had allowed me to keep myself together over the past few weeks it had been the idea of finally being able to see my wife and kid again, and as I walked towards the door it was all I could think about.

Then just as I got to the end of the hall a familiar face held open the door for me. There, with his trademark grin, was Kyle.

"I cut my trip short as soon as I heard that they were going to release you. I couldn't miss my star patient's release now could I? I bet you are so glad that you won't have to chat with me ever again!"

I screamed.

I ran home as fast as I possibly could several times tripping over my own feet. I finally got to my house just as I remembered it. I dashed across the lawn and threw open the door only to be greeted by...

Nothing.

Within time I learned that my family had been the ones never to have existed and that Kyle, while real, was nothing more than a doctor to me. I found out that I was once again alone.

If there were a message to be learned behind all of this, it would be that perspective and conformity aren't all that they are cracked up to be.

As the blood flows out of my body and onto the floor of my shower I am sourounded by a thick dead air of loneliness.

Is it really right to cure patient's mental dysfunctions? Take them away from a surreal world to place them in this one? Do doctors have the right to do so?

As I type these last words with blood on my finger tips I don't believe they do.

Because if it were up to me,

I wish I were still mad.