Brush teeth Get changed Breakfast at 11 with Laura Lunch Go for a walk Dinner Medication
January 17, 1994
Dear diary, I woke up last night with a terrible pounding headache. It was one of the ones where you don't have to shut your eyes and focus on your heartbeat because it's already pounding in your ears anyway. I found my way to the medicine cabinet and took a couple of aspirins. And cholinesterase. And antipsychotics. I smiled as I felt all the pain wash away. It seemed as if it was never there at all. Like a wave.
I trudged back into bed and shut my eyes. Then I opened them. Then shut them. Then I opened them. This went on for a couple of minutes before I sighed, realizing that I couldn't fall asleep. Stupid medication. I rolled over and found myself face to face with the wall.
I used to have a picture of my son there. Or did I? Where is my son? Do I have a son? I seem to have forgotten.
This seemed to be the problem with me. I'd remember and then forget the fine line between reality and what my doctor described as "what only I can see".
It was strange knowing that you were different. Untrusted. Fake. All those times when people ask you if you're ok when you're really not but you still choose to say you're doing fine anyway has become the monotonous task of reality for me. If it even is reality. I wouldn't know. My reality is different anyway.
Sometimes I wonder if it's me that's changing or if it's the world. What if it's not the fact that I'm seeing things, but just the fact that others are just too blind sighted to see them as well.
That thought hurt my head.
I hate doubting myself. But that's just my life.
I hope I can fall back asleep soon.
Medication (In the morning now) Breakfast Ask for more paper More pencils Lunch Dinner Stars?????
January 21, 1994
Dear diary, I can't sleep again but I went outside today. The stars looked really nice. I can't remember the last time I ventured outside. But that's ok. I've gotten used to forgetting. The medication really doesn't help. They said that I'll get to see my kids again if I cooperate with my treatment. There's that word again. Kids. I don't remember them but apparently, I had two. Did they say two? I can't remember.
I remember the days of resisting my medication. It was vigorous work believe me. I guess I stopped when the put me in the white room and shoved the meds down my throat.
The white room still gives me the shivers.
At least in my new room, they let me keep pictures. Pictures are pretty. I think I used to have them in my old house. Actually, I'm certain of it.
That's a first.
I believe the picture was of a flower. I remember seeing green. Or maybe it was of a lemon. Lemons were the green ones, right? Or were they...
You know what I'm not about to get into this.
Laura moved me to a new room yesterday. It's really nice. She's nice too. She has really pretty green eyes. Blue eyes. Green eyes. Maybe they're green blue.....
My new room is green. The walls, the carpet, the bedsheets, and the curtains are all green. It hurts my eyes.
I tried to ask for some brighter colors like yellow or blue in the room but they looked at me like I was crazy and walked away.
I'm not crazy. I feel fine.
Breakfast Brush teeth
Lunch Ponder the afterlife Dinner Bed
February 3rd, 1994
Dear diary, up again. The clock reads three A.M. Though it's hard to read against the strange blue glow of the walls. It looks pretty. I wanna touch it. I feel like a kid again. Unless this is a dream... In that case, I'd be an adult living in a kid's body in a dream. I wish I was flying in this dream. Instead of writing. That's boring. At least I'm not dreaming of the monsters.
I did a lot of thinking today. And I've decided not to tale my medication. It's obviously trying to implant a serum into my brain and take over my whole body. It's the government I tell you. I'm not the crazy one they are. I'm perfectly normal. Yes, I'm normal. I'm not crazy. Not Crazy. I'm ok. This is reality. They're the dream and I'm the reality. Not crazy. Not crazy. NotCrazy. Notcrazy.Notcrazy.Notcrazy.Notcrazy.Notcrazy.Not cra
Oh, the walls are pink now. It's so pretty. Like a flower. I get flowers sometimes. The strange man brings them to me. I don't like the strange man. He smells like outside. I think. Like trees. I haven't seen a tree for so long. All I see now is dust and cacti and the stars. He's always telling me it's going to be ok. That he's here for me. That he loves me.
I say he's the government.
I wonder some days if I'm there's anyone else in the strange building. I've only ever seen 2 rooms, the white room, and the glowing room. Yesterday though I heard a strange scream. It was almost inaudible. But it was quite loud so I heard it.
I think somebody's singing outside my window.
I wish they gave me windows.
Write down Last nights dream(s) Breakfast Make bed Lunch Dinner Bed
February ??? 1994
The white room. The white room is back. It's trying to take me. It wants me to give in. But I won't. I will not shut my eyes. I will not shut my eyes. I will not shut my eyes. I will not shut my eyes.
I don't remember how to sleep. I only remember the familiar feeling of closing my eyes and having a wave of tiredness wash over me. Dreamless sleep was the best. I never dreamt of the monsters.
I don't remember much but the pictures of the monsters never went away. Their image was forever burnt into my mind.
Soon I realized that the monsters weren't just in my head, they were everywhere. The first time I saw one that was when it started. I couldn't remember anything, just the horrible stench of there flesh and their hollowed-out eyes and their lanky limbs and-
I don't want to remember.
I didn't want to remember anything anymore.
The doctors said they were only a figment of my imagination, that I was insane, that I was seeing things ever since "the accident."
I don't remember any "accident".
All I remember now is the monsters
The things that I see are not what I'm seeing it's what the monsters see.
The things I see are not just my imagination they're whatever I want them to be.
If I want the walls red they're red.
If they didn't give me the stars I'll give myself the stars.
If I wanted the white room...
Well, I didn't want the white room. It was the hardest to manipulate, or at least by myself. But I'm in the hallway now.
Because they helped me.
The monsters helped me.
And now I give you the truth.
Thay never were hallucinations.
Just my reality.
I am reality.
I am the monsters.
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Oops! Typo in my critique...in the first sentence, it should be "The protagonist IN my work, and not the protagonist IS my work." LOL. :)
Dear Anna, First, I love your name. (The protagonist is my work in progress is called Anne.) I greatly enjoyed reading your short story, Feeling fine. It was a very compelling and suspenseful story. I was literally on the edge of my seat. :) First question: Has Stephen King influenced your writing style? This story feels like something he would write. (This is a wonderful thing to me; King is a master of writing believable and compelling narratives.) Next, I enjoyed the daily checklist device that you used. Each time the reader s...
Hello Ruth! My oh my how your comment just made my morning! I'm surprised that people are actually reading my work and actually liking it! Now, time to answer some questions/comments. 1. You gotta love the name :) I actually know quite a few Anne's but not that many Annas. Here's a fun fact: The name Anna Hasn't left the top 240 of names since we started keeping track in the 1800s. It's currently ranked 54. 2. I'm actually a big fan of Stephan king. Along with Tim Burton. And I just watched Terminator. I honestly had no clue where thi...
If only I knew how to edit it lol
Hi Anna, I am so happy to meet you. 🙂 I tell everyone that I have been on sabbatical for a l
Hello Anna, I am also happy when anyone reads my stuff and leaves feedback. (It can be like pulling teeth, and I also don't want to do self-promotion that is too cheesey.) LOL, when people in America hear my name, they will often say: "My grandma has that name." (I never know what to say to this.)
This in the 2nd part of my message, as I am using a VPN, and the Reedsy app will sometimes stop, and I lose longer messages that I am texting. Anyway, I think your name is a good name for a writer. It just sounds right. I'm a big fan of Stephen King, especially his older stuff like The Stand. I think I have loved every short story that he has written, as well.🙂
This is the third part of this epistle.🙂 Ohmygosh! I adore Tim Burton's early stuff, especially Batman, and Batman Returns. I love the loved when he and Johnny Depp first collaborated, but they seemed to have collaborations that didn't produce the same high quality of work after they had collaborated for many years. I was sorry to hear about your aunt, but so happy that she has excellent meds. Medication helps so many people (I know, because I take medication that works for OCD) but there can still be such a stigma that a few people...
Lol, 4th part- I am writing about Errol Flynn this week, and I had better get back to finishing it. As you can guess, it is dark.🙂 As soon as I finish, I am going to write a light-hearted story. What about you? What is your work in progress? Also, are you on Twitter? LOL, I am a very curious person.🙂 (I will respond to your other kind message, later.) Have a great day, and catch you later, Ruth