It's too bad I'm psychotic

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I see a kid walking down the street, he has a balloon. He looks so happy, so free, so untainted by the horrific reality of society as it is today. I want to rip out his happiness, his joy, keep it for myself.

I wish I could feel what he could feel.

It's too bad I'm psychotic.

My grandma died over the weekend. I should care, I know that much because my mum was crying. I wonder if I would cry if she died.

I know I should.

It's too bad I'm psychotic.

I went to a 'friend's' birthday party. His mum asked me if I enjoyed it. I said no. At her look of hurt, I felt a flash of triumph. I knew I should have felt guilty but I've never felt guilty before.

I wonder what it's like.

It's too bad I'm psychotic.

...

People are starting to realise who I really am. What I really am. It's the thing they call my 'disability' when they think I can't hear them. I want to snap at them, say they're wrong, they're lying, they don't know what they're talking about. I want to tell them I can hear every word they're saying and I'm not deaf or stupid. But somehow, this only reinforces their belief. And inside I know. There is something wrong with me. Maybe I am a monster, a freak of nature. Maybe.

School is a nightmare. People stare at me, whisper behind my back. They don't want to catch my eye. There's this one boy who everyone calls a bully. I thought he was just like any other guy...until he came for me.

I know I should keep my temper. Anyone else would. I know I should keep my temper. His insults are worthless, his threats empty, his opinion means nothing to me. I know I should keep my temper...

It's too bad I'm psychotic.

I SEE RED

I don't remember picking up the brick. I don't remember swinging it. I don't remember the wet thunk it made when it found its target. I don't remember my classmates having to drag me off him. I do remember being in the head's office and feeling one of the few emotions I could. Fear.

And then they told me I killed him.

...

I was sent home in disgrace. My mum was crying and hugging me. My dad patted me on the back before sighing and going upstairs. They pity me. They pity me because they know about my 'disability'. My 'problem'.

I go for a walk. Out to the Thames. I'm on a bridge. Blackfriars bridge. A normal person wouldn't lean too far over the edge. A normal person wouldn't jump in. A normal person wouldn't let the water submerge them, cover them up, hide all trace of their existence on purpose. A normal person knows the dangers. A normal person doesn't want to end it all. A normal person doesn't want to die.

It's too bad I'm psychotic.


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