SICK LITTLE GIRL
My mind exists as shattered fragments lost to the abyss of insanity. i guess thid means that i am mad. born in an asylum, i was, and even with my mother dead beside me, i would not cry. it was assumed that maybe i had contracted her madness as well in birth or just could not feel the pain of the doctor's smack on my bottom. even i can't say why but after a number of years outside of the institution, i was brought back. funny enough, it happened to be the same institution i had been born in. i could not fit in amongst proper sane people and children at that, so i was brought back.
Fortunately, i feel more at home in my dark little cell than i ever had in all of the foster homes i had been in. alone i was and the solitude comforted me. the darkness embraced me and i was happy. happy till the voices came. like ghostly wraiths on the wind they came, invading my privacy and my mind. no longer was i alone and thankful but thrust into the centre of people's attentions and not just any people but those of the mad and their near insane keepers.
When i returned to my home, i had not been mad but just too different for those around me to call nothing but mad. i was never really mad. not until the voices came. with the voices came pictures and they were horrible, in unison becoming much worse. i saw dead people, and i ate their flesh. ate it after i had killed them. i did things to myself taht caused evil pleasure and i thought unwholesome thoughts of others and their deaths, playing it all out in my head. alone i was, with all the madness suddenly alive in me till i became just as mad. i did those things to myself, cutting, piercing and probbing whilst i violently attacked my care takers, doctors and even my fellow inmates. burdened by the weight of words and pictures, my mind was broken into millions of tiny fragments, all hoping to be reformed whilst knowing that they never would be.
It is upon one of these shards that i now lay. fearful of slipping and falling off it's slippery surface, to land upon another nightmare. it is because of this shard that i am able to grasp an amount of sanity and file all this away in the hope that one day the madness will leave me but unlike before, i now see myself reflected in all the shards of madness and i shrink inwardly. afraid of what i have become. a demented thing with insanity my only companion.
Strangely, with all my seventeen years alive, i have never been so alone. not until now that i am truly not alone. i sing and carve into my flesh with my poorly cut nails, just barely growing and grin sweetly at any passerby through the opaque door as i hear then go past. in silent whisper, i converse with borrowed demons that have now become my own. demons that had come to conquer, only to now lay teethered in my service.
Like the blowing wind, i feel my conciousness slip and then slide off of my sanity, last vestige of my humanity. the shard upon wehich i had just been perched upon. Slide to fall down onto yet another shard. A much different shard. I wonder who i will become next?