Not sick

"I don't want to take the meds, pretend that I'm ordinary. Follow the rules. Why should I? So that I can be like everybody else? Asleep? A robot? The voices need me to save them.

I'm going to wake up. I should stop taking the meds. They are making everything... blurry. Give all these effects to the layer that is life. I'm on a transparent layer, it's unticked and I'm stuck here. When I should be on the real layer- the visible layer. This 'verse is just one file in a photoshop aplication.

Everything should just be what it is- but it isn't.

It's 3 am, the devil's hour. I keep waking up at 3 am. I swear I'm being haunted.

This body isn't mine. These memories. They aren't mine. Why am I carrying all this? All these lies??

When I close my eyes, they're open, and when they're open, they're closed. In the blackness, I keep seeing people. Hands, clawing their way towards me. Eyes, staring. Shadows moving about.

Something is going on and everyone is pretending it isn't, they're lying. I don't have Schizophrenia. i'm a world creator. I'm not sick. I'm NOT."