2 I. Reality and Illusion

Now before we begin, a few background information about me:

I am a simple Asian man

20 years old

Currently studying in college

Mad

Now if I say I'm mad, I mean I am REALLY mad. This mind is full too twisted, and sometimes malignant. I see things some people don't. Once we went to a quack doctor (it's quite popular in my country). My mother told the quack doctor to examine me, to see the root of my madness.

After some ritual that involved me sniffing through irritating smoke and some candle lighting, the quack doctor concluded that I have an active third eye.

Oh how my parents worried. For years they grew over protective to me. They would always put salt on my room's window to protect me from getting abducted by some imaginary monsters. Oh how they feared for me. But me on the other hand, am skeptical.

The cursed belief continued until I am 17 years old when I finally saved enough money and courage to consult a Psychiatrists. As it turns out, I have a rare mental disease called schizophrenia. She would administer me some medications to calm my nerves and I would make some letter for my parent's consent.

And so arguments with my parents were born. See my parents are a superstitious lot. They don't trust modern medicine too much mainly because of two things; my uncle got addicted to morphine when he was administered with one and that addiction died with him, the other reason is that most medicine are expensive and we barely have enough money.

Anyways, it took me several days to convince my parents to sign the waiver. I could just forge their signature but I still have my morality intact at that time. Oh and I also need their money if I am to continue buying the prescribed medication.

Soon after, I would find myself buying meds, and taking some therapy session with my psychiatrist.

Some facts about the psychiatrist:

She was about 5'10

Aged at about mid 20s

One of the top notchers of the board exams

Certified achiever

And even after all that intellect and medals she would not forsee the chaos that will happen just because of this fucked up mind.

Anyways, her name is Dr. Olayta. She is kind, sometimes nosy but ahe is indeed a good person overall. We kind of have a love hate relationship maybe because she asks me questions that I don't feel like answering or maybe because she have been filling my head with hope for a cure.

I hate hope.

The therapy sessions would continue for quite some time and so does the medication. From time to time, Dr. Olayta would administer me higher dosage of medication followed by a sincere assurance, "It will be over soon".

Like hell it's going to be over. From the new prescription, I can see that it only got worse. But who am I to disrespect her. So I replied;

"Thank you".

Now then therapy sessions and medications may sound so boring to read, so allow me to show you my dear readers what is to come;

August 15, 2019

The sky is dark and crying. The clouds roared thunder. My feet is surrounded by mud and blood. Two men are running towards my location. My hands are shaking violently. My heart beats fast. It knows...

Now let's not get ahead of ourselves. I don't want my readers to blindly judge me. Plus, it's not good to fill this with edgy and dark stories. No. let's go back to the simpler times 2 years before that tragedy.

Oh if only I too could go back.

Well then, back to the past, when my therapy sessions and medications were still supported by my parents. By that time, it's not really too costly since economy is a bit good at that time and I am taking my therapy on a government institution. As far as I know, the only thing that cost us money is the medication. Even Dr. Olayta didn't charge money for her services saying I deserve to be better.

She pitied me, that girl. Sometimes she would say that at such a young age it's unfortunate to have such a rare mental disease. I appreciated the her pity but at the same time hated it. Makes me look weak.

But then again, who am I to judge? I was only 17 years old at that time. Too young to beat te world but old enough to see the truth. Going back, perhaps Dr. Olayta isn't wrong. Maybe I am weak. Or maybe I wasn't even strong in the first place.

Reality and illusion. Two different things, but hard to differentiate once you saw both and in my case, I got accustomed to it. I was raised by it. Then again, who are we to judge what is real and what is not. Maybe it's real. Maybe I'm real and all the others are illusion. Maybe only I can see the truth and the others are blind people waiting for their impending doom.

There it goes, that hint of madness again. It's hard really, seeing things no one else sees. The medications certainly did not help at all. They are useful to calm my nerves yes, but the visions, oh how real they were.

Most of the time I would only see people that are out of place. Like people on top of roof, people flying on the sky, people watching me as I eat my breakfast. One of these illusions however, caught my attention. Most illusions come and go but these certain illusion, it returns. Just as I thought I can escape the illusion, it crawls back to the edge of my mind and there it goes again. Standing. Watching.

I would appreciate it more if it wore a pretty face. But no its not. It doesn't even wear a face at all.

The visions would continue they were harmless of course, as long as you don't talk with them. See talking with yourself is quite weird especially in public.

Trust me, I know. These illusions, they're tricksters I tell you.

Oh and by the way, the future predicament that I showed you? Don't think about it so much, by the end I'm pretty sure that everything will be justified. Every action, every consequence. All those sin and tragedy. All will be accounted for. Just know that it doesn't end well. At least not for me.