Insane

I guess people chose what to believe in, right?

I guess people make wrong choices all the time, right?

I’m sorry I’m being pathetic.

I’m sorry I have to write this.

They made me.

They say I’ll be fine.

I don’t know if I want to be fine.

I don’t know if I can be fine.

“No, Frank.” She reprimanded me, involving my hand with hers and pulling the pen away from my fingers. “You will be fine.”

“I don’t need to be fine.” I mumbled picking up a pencil this time.

I fell like a dog.

I fell stupid.

I am not stupid.

I don’t need to be told what to do.

She took the pencil away from me too. I wonder if my soul’s next.

“Stop. You’re clearly not ready for this yet.”

Yeah, I probably need more drugs to become like all the others zombies that walk this concentration of evilness we call earth. I need more drugs to be ready for this.

If so, I don’t want this.

“Frank.” I tried to ignore it was my name she was calling. The tone of her voice sounded so much like his did. But I’m not crying now. I’m not weak now. Most important, I’m alive. And I’m not crazy. I know I’m not.

“Frank.” It sounded again. Like all those times I would try to ignore him the first time. She was just like him. Just there to hurt me.

“What?” I snapped at her, trying to avoid my thoughts. He was alive in my thoughts. Where else he was alive, I don’t know.

“The time is over. I’ll get a nurse to take you to your room.” She informed me sadly. I don’t know why she though she would ever make a difference to me. No one would. I won’t lie and say I was never just as stupid and naïve, but you’d think after working here for some time you would get over the fact that you won’t make a difference to most of the people.

“I’m looking forward to seeing you tomorrow. I hope you’re feeling better.” She said tentatively.

I wanted to open my mouth and tell her, throw it in her face that I would never feel better. I wanted to mix in a lie and tell her it was her fault. I wanted to make her feel just as bad as me. I wanted to have her dream about me at night; I wanted to have her lying awake at night, not being able to sleep. I wanted her to know how I felt. I wanted mostly to know someone else felt the way I did, know I wasn’t alone.

But I didn’t. My lips wouldn’t open, like there was something above controlling my mind, something that wanted me to stay alone. Right here.

I wonder if she’ll make me do this again tomorrow. She told me: “In this paper, I want you to write a letter to yourself. I want you to know what you’re feeling.”

I wish they didn’t find me too senile to give a paper and a pen, a pencil anything that would leave a mark. My mark. I wish I could finish that letter to myself. There are so many things I need to say.

I pleaded insanity, but I know I wasn’t insane. I need to assure myself of that.

I hate it here. Everyone fakes, everyone pretends, everyone hates me, no one has the guts to say it to my face because they might get their heart stabbed. They don’t really understand. They say they are good at what they do, but they’re not.

They tried to make me talk. They said I should tell them, talk to them about reasons. They also tried to tell me about right and wrong once. I probably knew more about it than them.

I wasn’t insane when I came here. I’m not insane now, but what if they let me out to a world without him? After all Iloved love him. I was sure I did it for him, now I’m pretty sure I did it for myself too, and I might not be able to accept it when they let me out in a place where I can’t pretend, where I can’t deny it to myself. Somewhere I can’t be insane. That’s the only thing I do right. If I ever become insane is not because I killed him but because he was dead.

Vampires. They never die. They don’t exist. I need to tell myself, I know that now.

I remember the first night. I was lying in bed, waiting for him, unable to sleep. My mind was going at a mile an hour. I was hopping that he would be able to stop this chain of thoughts.

How this started, I’m not sure. Maybe it was just me, or maybe it was his fault too. I’m not sure.

His greenish-honey eyes looked wide, more than any surprise ever could. His small, pale, dry, curt lips where open in the remains of what used to be a smile. His hair was messy in a way I had never seen it and I could hear the sound of his blood pumping through his veins; I could hear his fast heart beat. My shadow hovered over him making his eyes look darker. My shadow raised its hand, holding something sharply ended, the semi-transparent black climbed up the wall and like a roller coaster, went down securely. Before I could stop it, I heard a sound coming from below, just another unanswered question; “Why?”

Some weeks later the thoughts in my head started to find each other, gaining some short of form. I could feel him there, next to me, sleeping, undefended, while I was next to him, looking at the ceiling, letting the thoughts do its job. They were still not very accurate.

It wasn’t me. I’d like to tell myself, it was never me.

I can’t hear the voices anymore, but I know they are only growing stronger. They just don’t need to talk anymore.

I like the dark. In the dark I can’t see anything; not my shadow, not myself. In the dark the only thing I can see is my imagination; You.

They leave me in the dark a lot. They treat me like an animal, afraid I’ll get angry by the lightening. I’m not an animal; the voices are inhuman, maybe. They act by instincts and they control me. What does that make me?

Maybe I am insane. What do I know to be sure of the opposite?

I remember that night.

“Vampires never die.” It was a voice I’ve never heard on him. Not different but so not the same.

The cold touch of his skin was felt along my face. My eyes were wide at the sight of a ghost.

Not a ghost. Vampires don’t die.

My lips were parted, ready to say everything I have been saving, but my voice wasn’t capable of making itself hear. I barely felt strong enough to ask him why.

But I refused to make this a déjà vu.

His shadow hovered over me, darker than the night we were involved in.

I raised my eyes to his. The sight of the dark strokes of red along them got my voice high in my throat and along with the tears I’ve been saving for him, it got out.

“Kill me, eye for an eye.” I told him hoarsely. I was being selfish. I just wanted the voices gone.

“You’re missing an eye.” He smirked. “Vampires don’t die more than when they are born, so you’ll live.”

“Please.” I begged him.

“Do you want to live forever? That’s the only eye I can trade.” He asked me. I choked on my tears while letting out a secure “No.”

He must have heard the terror in my voice. He dropped his hand to my neck and titled my head to the side. Closing the space between us, his lips fell on my neck.

“I love you. Did you ever love me?” He asked, turning his mouth to my ear.

I knew this would only make everything worse, but there was nothing I could possibly say to get him to have mercy on me, so I acted as I’ve always wanted to act. I acted like the selfish man I am and I did something that would make someone feel bad, to know I wasn’t alone in this misery. I wanted to leave someone wondering what they did wrong, at least once in my life, before he took it from me.

“Yes. I never stopped.” I told him and I swear I could fell something wet making its way down my neck, right before my blood engulfed it.