The Voice Inside

Insanity.

Be in a dark room.... No lights but the moonlight, feeling pity on you, deciding to give you light to shine on your way to insanity... The road of darkness and life, the splits of reality and dream... Between me and you.

This insanity has overpowered me. It has and had and still will take me the lands of the unfortunate souls who didn't survive as long as I have. This has been long adventure.

I was, as you could say, the goody two shoes. The smart one. The straight A student. The overachiever. Ect. Ect. I was great at school, I loved to read, and I was great at many things. Until I was overpowered by the insanity. The ways of death. The ways of old and ancient.

I would read Creepypasta, look up the deceased and the ways many died. I would begin to lose my grades. Dropping down to at least a C. I began to lose all sanity within me, but enough kept to stay alive, look alive, and fake the living ways. I would barely eat losing much weight.

Then it begin to the beginning of what I would call stage one of a killer. A lunatic. I tell many I need help, but they laugh at my face, I need help. I NEED HELP!!!! I begin having migraines and sleep terrors. I would see figures of the dark and ominous eyes of red and white. They are sketched into my mind.

I will lose sleep from these night terrors having the feeling of being watched by my little friends of the night. Waking every hour to just let my head fall to my pillow once more to fall asleep. Soon these wakings turned to staying awake as long as I could. These voices would concave my mind. Struggled breathing would be heard and felt on the back of my neck.

I would hear many things you could say but the worst.... The worst of it was knowing why I couldn't sleep. Forcing myself every night to stay awake. Pulling my hair and rocking back and forth to the wind from my window. Knowing that my bed is where they will find me, that I should not sleep.

I would began to hear them talk to me, to hurt others, it very tempting since they are my bullies, but what's the point... Am I right?

The scary part is when I reply they do too. They sing to me. These lullabys of old Latin. They are very beautiful and I enjoy them.

I love them. They are my only true friends. They give me hope and tell me truth as I lie to others to keep them. I never wish for them to leave. They are my friends.

I begun cutting myself and drinking my own blood and when my mother took my knife and locked away all sharp object I began tearing my skin with my nails and chewing the inside of my mouth. Satisfied with myself I began to cut my sleeping friends and drink theirs. It's ravishing. Beautiful black blood that seeps into my mouth down my throat.....

I will smile everyday at my friends and ask them the usual. "Are you okay" and the " What is the matter." I will tell them I am their one and only friend that will stay with them as long as they live to satisfie me in the way they do not know. I laugh as a lunitic.
I wish for the day to see these corpses in my kitchen. Ready to be eaten. As I feed the hunger in my chest. To feed my only true friends..... The ones that have satisfied me.

But I do have one question.... Will you be my friend?