Crazy

Crazy

I am not crazy. I am not crazy. I am not crazy.

I tell myself this a hundred times a day. Maybe that sounds crazy, but its all that keeps me sane. Otherwise I might start believing what the Doctor says. He thinks I'm crazy. Not that he’s ever said so to my face, but I can see it in his eyes, and hear it in the tone of his voice.

I hate this place. I hate the Doctor. I hate the Staff. I hate the other patients.

I don’t belong here.

I’m not crazy. Really. I’m not.

They say that I killed my wife. But that’s bullshit. I loved my wife, with all my heart and soul. But try telling that to the mind-fuckers that run this house of madness. Their eyes just glaze over and they up your dosage.

They’ve got a pill for everything.

The blue pills are the worst. You eat one of those fuckers and your brain just shuts down. Like someone flipped a switch inside your head. Brain on. Brain off.

Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night screaming. It doesn’t help my case any. It just reinforces their preconceived ideas about the state of my mental health. But sometimes the dreams are so bad...

I found Karen’s body. Torn to shreds. The walls and floor glistening with her blood. I’ve relived that moment a thousand times in my dreams. It’s the granddaddy of all nightmares. The blood. The body parts. Any sane person would wake up screaming. I know I do.

Its hard to keep track of time here. The days roll by, one just like another. Like you’re living the same day over and over again. Caught in an endless
loop with no beginning and no end.

It’s a wonder I haven’t gone insane.

I’m surrounded by insanity. Everyone here is fucking nuts. I’ve given all the other patients nicknames. Drooling Danny. Blank-eyed Billy. Psychotic Sally. Head-banging Holly. Me... I guess I’m Screaming Sammy. Cause I wake up screaming.

I saw the thing that killed Karen. And I say “thing” because it wasn’t human. I saw it as I pulled into the driveway, before I went into the house and found what was left of the woman I loved. It was cutting across the back yard, headed for the woods. It heard the car, stopped, and looked back at me. Words aren’t adequate to describe what it looked like. Hell-spawn might come close though. Or walking Nightmare. All I know is that God didn’t make this creature. But Satan might have. Or maybe it came from another planet. I don’t fucking know. I just know that I saw it. It wasn’t a man. It wasn’t an animal. It was a... thing.

Try telling that to the police. Or a shrink. They’ll think you’re fucking nuts...

I still have hopes that I’ll get out of here some day. If these people could only look inside my head. And see what I saw. And feel what I felt. If I could only make them understand. But it’s a daunting task.

I know that they think I’m crazy. But I can’t just give up. If I do, they win. Somehow I have to convince them. I tell myself that its not impossible. After all, David did take a small stone and kill Goliath. But sometimes I wonder if Goliath was just to fucking stupid to duck.

I am not crazy. I am not crazy. I am not crazy.

I’m not.