Journal of Uncertainties

Voices.

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
The time passes as both of my eyes stay awake. My head felts heavy, probably due to the medications.
I need someone to be here.
The thought crossed my mind all of a sudden. I stare deeply into the hospital ceiling, wondering about the world outsise.
I wonder what are people doing right now without my irritating pressence. They probably are damn relieved right now.
The room feel so cold as i feel a thrill under my skin. Yeah, the thrills that i'm getting used to. The urges.
Sometimes-- i have this urges to hurt something. Or someone. 
I want to goddamn choke the fucking hell out of someone. Stab them. Fucking assholes.
I want to burn them with kerosene.
Or-- should i?
....
Oh God, i'm scared.
Can anyone tell the voices inside my head to shut the fuck off?
I can't hurt anyone.
It's just--- doesn't feel right!
I.... I can't. No...
So i hurt myself.
Call this escapism, but it's the only way. For the sake of people.
The bad thing is, they judged me without knowing the reason why.
They said that i do it all for goddamn attention.
Bitch, i din't need no one's attention, i just need to get these goddamn voices to shut the fuck up.
My psychiatrist think i'm getting better,
But no, doc.
I ain't getting anywhere so far.
I'm sorry.
I'm such a dissapointment.
A burden.
And please don't stare at me with those "scared" eyes,
You make me felt like a scary thing.
And i hate it.
No, it doesn't makes me hate you.
It makes me hate myself even more.
It makes me afraid and terrified of what things i'm capable of.
Sometimes i wish someone would lock me in a goddamn ward,
But truly,
Deep inside,
I just wished someone is here right now.
I'm alone with the voices and it's killing me.