WARNING: The following post contains content which may be triggering including self-harm, psychotic hallucinations and delusions.
Poems flow from the tip of my pen. The words pour frantically out of my head and are scrawled angrily onto the page.
Among the dark and disturbing poems even more disturbing texts are recorded in code. Pages of little symbols recorded in my school books… Luckily, by this time we never have to show the teachers our books – our assignments are all written and submitted separately.
When I’m not scrawling I am lost deep in the trenches of my mind, sitting still at the back of the classroom discreetly digging holes in my flesh under the sleeve of my jumper to ease the anguish swamping my head. The blood is hidden. The scars are hidden.
Somehow, among school kids with a keen nose for abnormality who seek to bring down any of their peers, I manage to survive. True, I am mocked relentlessly and people think me odd, but I hide the extent of that truth from them.
As I withdraw further from the world external to me, my mind gets sicker and I see things with new sharp lenses. Suddenly I am aware of being able to see and hear things that others can’t, but I am not hallucinating – no, it is not I who is sick but almost every other human on the planet! They are all brainwashed, The Matrix-style. I have the gift of seeing. I have been chosen. I have to conceal this gift or the brainwashed ones in their ignorance will put me in an asylum with the other people who see but were deemed mad by those with closed eyes.
Read the original post here.
(Re-blogged here from my self-hosted site at www.nourishmylifeblog.com)