It hurt. It hurt looking at him hurting. Hurting himself,  screaming at the top of his lungs. It all hurt. Knowing that there was nothing anyone could do, nothing I could do to make it all stop. To stop the screams, the hits, everything. All you could do is hope that it would end before he got hurt even worse. It was like watching someone drive themselves insane, except he was already insane. He had been mad ever since he was diagnosed with insanity when he was 15 months old. At first he was okay; he didn't do anything to harm himself nor anyone else. He was a calm child growing up, never caused any hardships to the family , but when he turned 8 that’s when it all started. His dementia gradually worked its way up till his 8th birthday and that’s when it all became too much. All the temper tantrums, hurting himself, the screaming, the aggression, everything. All because he was born with this craziness. People call it “severe autism” or a “mental disorder” but I prefer to call it insanity. Because that’s what it is: pure madness. Don’t get me wrong; there are times when hes the perfect little angel, but there are other times where he would turn into the devil himself.