My Little Psychosis

First of all, my psychosis was a peculiar kind. That is, I did not know I even was psychotic. Subconsciously I must have known, since I could answer the doctor that asked whether I heard voices, with a cry, maybe a silent yes, but most definitely by a nod.

I was put on anti-psychotics immediately and what happened is almost beyond describing. It was like an endless, horror-filled night had subsided and the dawn of a new day, no, a new age, was finally upon me.

That is actually how I knew what I had had. The difference between unmedicated and medicated was worlds apart. I had thought what I felt was natural, having succumbed into it for so long, and after getting out of that dark place had I finally seen what the world could be like.

To be honest, I'm not even sure I ever heard voices even though I told the doctor so. Not from the outside at least. I did have a lot of thoughts, mostly unhealthy, and the only voice in my head was my own.

Maybe that's why it felt right to believe it. It was, after all, I. My inner voice.
 I lived many months, maybe even a year, fearing for my life every day. I knew for a fact that there was a real risk in going out and walking from my apartment to my parents' house 200 meters away. If I didn't see anyone outside that could have wanted to kill me, there would always be snipers far away just waiting for a clean shot.

Why would anyone want to kill a nobody like me?

In my psychosis, there was no logic. It didn't have to be rational for I wasn't one to question what I knew was real.

The desire to kill others came mainly from violent images showing what I should do "pounding" in my mind. Maybe it wasn't as much a desire to kill, as it was a desire to stop the pounding images.

To avoid killing anyone, I played video games. It was a good way to distract myself. If I didn't occupy my mind, my mind would occupy itself. I played as long into the night as I could, until I could no longer stay awake, had no violent images and most definitely had no energy left to kill anybody. Especially my girlfriend that I shared a bed with and to whom I became a real pain in the neck.

I did what I have now vowed to never do again to anyone. I restricted her life. I took away her friends, her social life, everything. I told her I didn't want her to do anything without me, and because I wasn't in the habit of leaving the house neither could she. She could go to school and to the store, but never to have any real life, never to see any real people. I had become a manipulative a-hole.

And she endured what no one should be made to endure. And what I will never make anyone endure again.

I feel like this post has been building up for a really big ending, but I just can't figure out a way to climax it. So I guess I'll just end it like this.