Schizophrenic

I

I'm not crazy. I know I'm not crazy. The only reason why I came to you was to get him to stop. I'm not crazy. It's not my fault that he keeps following me. That's his fault. He never goes away. At first, I didn't think much of it, but he hasn't gone away. Even now, he's here with me. But I'm not crazy. He's there. He's real. I know he is. Let me tell you what happened. Then you'll know I'm not crazy.
I don't really remember when I met him. He just showed up. There isn't an exact moment of clarity when he appeared. He was just... there. My parents never believed me. They always passed him off as a figment of my imagination. He was real, though. He was real.
He had told me his name was Luke. He had moved into town with his family, his sister, and his grandmother and that I was his only friend. I believed him. It was logical, even though I never saw any of his family. I felt bad, though. Everyone deserves a friend. He was at my house almost every day. It was as if he lived there, as if he didn't have a home and ours was makeshift. He never used the front door, he always climbed through the window. Whenever I asked him about it, he said he liked the danger and changed the subject.
Luke was nice at first, but he hated a lot of things. He hated the pills that my parents made me take. He made me throw them out or hide them from my parents. He said I didn't need them. That I wasn't crazy. So you can see, even Luke believed me. He knew I wasn't crazy, so why don't you?
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