The Story of a Schizophrenia

Voices.

I used to hear voices every once in a while, and now I hear them everyday. They tell me things that I don't want to know and they tell me that I'm crazy when I know I am.

They tell me things like I don't already know that they are true.

Slut.
Whore.
Bitch.
Crazy.
Insane.

And all I can do is sit here and want to kill the tiny voices inside my head.

The voices drive me crazy, and I feel like I am locked up in there trance. Like they want me to act crazy for satisfaction. And I happily act crazy for them because I am their slave.

I don't want them to take over but I know that they already do. And it's much to late for me. Much to late for my family. They know I'm crazy. They know I need help. And they know I have done things because of it.

Like the scars on my wrists and the scars on my legs, and the scars everywhere really. They know that they aren't just there because I put them there. They know they are there because the voices guided them to be there. And it's not okay anymore.

I want the voices to go away, and I want them to stop. They need to stop before I scream. Scream out loud and have everyone (not just my family) know that I'm crazy. I want everyone to know I'm normal, and that I'm not mad.

I want the voices to stop.

For good.