The most magical thing to happen to me was when my mind took a break from reality and got too lost in a fantastical fantasy. When your brain has as many fractures as mine it’s really only a matter of time before your cheese slides off your *******. I was the Prophet of God. And my declaration of the coming apocalypse ruined any semblance of credibility I might’ve had. Paranoia kept my mouth shut about the happenings in my head. I couldn’t trust anyone with my skewed truth. They would’ve only diluted my message. When you go crazy your fantasy feels like reality. I had all the answers, or so I thought. So I took down names, initials of the people I wanted to save. I prepared myself for the violence and the responsibility of taking care of my people. And I prayed probably more than I ever had in my life. Because I was the Prophet of God.