Never did I imagine myself sitting on an observation table in front of a one-way mirror, looking into my eyes while somebody is undoubtedly doing the same. However, I'm certain they don't see anything close to what I do. Beyond these "windows to my soul," lies a mausoleum where my sanity has been laid to rest. Typically I hate being stared at, but I am calmed by the steady, constant hum of the florescent lights above. It's nice to know that in a world of chaos and uncertainty, I can rely on something as simple as light fixtures to reassure me that not everything is madness. I can only hope that the florescent bulb in my head maintains its steady flicker, and not go out completely. THe shaddd ows it casTS have Ben mmmy l-only frENDS 4 so lllooonnnggg, but they are no stubSTItute for you, my Love is SO overrated, don't you think, folks? Well, have I an offer for you! For only the the low, low price of your amygdala, we can scramble the pesky part of your brain that hurts you the most with a shiny, surgical drill! Isn't madness wonderf--
I shake my head as my hallucinations break away from me, dissipating into thin air like so many real things in life. Things and people I thought were real, anyhow. It hard to be certain what reality consists of nowadays when what's most dear to you becomes another negative on the number line of my life. Please, divide me by zero so I may be one with the rest of my life's errors in the infinity known as Purgatory. Eye deadn't know REALity was so f a r from Beezl---beaten-- er, BEING real. What s there 2 rHEALly be cHURTIN of in a place where my Angel left me to burn in HELLO operator, give me number nine. My wrists are being bled, and if this girl don't pick up the phone, we both might wind up... Deadbolt all the doors, cause this time you can't quit. I'll set the house on fire; I'm sick of all your... Shut the bathtub faucet off; throw the toaster in. The voices think they can beat me, BUT I WON'T LET THEM WIN.
A sharp chill shoots up my spine that fries the monitor in my brain, killing the images im once again forced to watch. The regularly scheduled programming I call,"Life," returns and the florescent lights steadies my heartbeat. They're getting stronger... Or am I just getting weaker. I don't have much strength left in these bones, but I suppose it's because I gave you everything, save what little I needed to get me up and to the nearest source of caffeine every morning. I miss you. You don't know how badly that with every passing day, my sanity wanes because you were the part keeping me together. I've said some things I didn't mean, and I'm sorry. But, there was too much blank space between us and it allowed for all this insanity to slip in and consume me. I hope that one day you come back, let alone hold me. I don't know how much longer eye have before the boy you fHELL in l... lo... Love with is gone. I just want to tell you that no matter what, this was--Breaking news coming to you straight from Frank's damaged psyche. Reports are flooding into the conscious mind of a possible hostage situation involving Frank's sanity. Introspection indicates that the threat of this situation has been very real for awhile now, but there was little to nothing anybody could do about it, save for heavy medication or a medically induced coma. We believe that the victim may be afflicted with both PTSD as well as Stockholm Syndrome, and that the Devil himself may very well be responsible. Other sources speculate that Frank's sanity was simply overwhelmed and is merely holing itself up, away from those who have promised rescue. No demands have been made, and there are signs that this will very well end tragically. We can only hope if such is true, that the demise of his sanity is swift and merciful. Coming up next: is bashing your head repeatedly into a hot stovetop a healthier alternative to reality television? Stay tuned and find out.
A deep, sharp throb resonates in my skull, evacuating me from myself, and not a moment too soon. It's been too long since I could concentrate long enough to make sense of anything. I can feel an anxiety attack coming on when a click sounds directly to my left. The door opens and a doctor dressed in all white and wearing a surgeons' mask steps forth and looks at me with piercing black eyes. He stands there for a moment, as if analyzing me, and then speaks. "I'm Doctor Natas, are you ready for your frontal lobotomy, Mr. Ruland," he asks in a husky voice. He smells of fire and sulfur as his presence begins to fill the room, causing me to wrap my arms around myself. "Yes, I'm ready," I say, standing up. He opens the door revealing an intense, almost burning white light. "Right this way," he says, guiding me through the door.
This is based off of one of my favorite comics: "Carnage: What a Wonderful Life," enjoy.