Daily checklist:

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.

Daily Checklist

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.

Daily checklist

Breakfast

Brush teeth

Medication

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.

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.

Daily checklist

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.

The monsters.

I don't remember much but the pictures of the monsters never went away. Their image was forever burnt into my mind.

Forever.

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.