Jesse’s Story – 18 years old

I guess the thing that scares me the most is the not knowing. Not knowing exactly what happened in certain situations as opposed to what really happened. Its almost like a dream, isn’t it? It feels real at the time and then suddenly you’re sucked back into reality. Only, for me, reality never quite came.

I was constantly floating along, viewing the world differently than everyone else; as though I was looking through murky water, unable to see clearly. I’d hear people talking to me, telling me to do things. Horrible things. But I could see no bodies, no mouths moving, no people talking. They weren’t always terrible, though.

At first, they were even nice. They told me they were my guardian angels and that they looked out for me and watched my every move. They told me I was destined for greatness. That I’d become a famous singer and my life would be perfect. So I believed them, and in my dreamlike world began to live like a celebrity. I’d sing to myself everywhere I went, and could hear my “fans” whispering hidden in the trees, telling me how good I was. And so, for a while I believed it.

But then things started to change. I began to have stalkers that followed me everywhere I went. They became obsessed, and listened to my every word, even recording my voice, only to play back to their friends to fawn over the melodic tunes of my voice. I became increasingly suspicious and paranoid. I was watched everywhere. Even in the privacy of my own home, I’d be having a conversation with my mom in my room, and then suddenly the next day kids would be discussing my bra size, to the exact detail my mom and I had discussed. How did they know that?

I began to become more and more paranoid; changing in the dark, showering only after my mom made sure the bathroom was clean from any video recording devices. Even then I got in and out as fast as I could. I began to feel so terrified, I literally felt sick to my stomach; I began throwing up from worry, and unable to keep any food down. For a while, it went on like that. Until I noticed HIM. Or should I say, HE noticed ME.

For years I’d watched him from a distance, soaking in his every word, every move. To put it simply, he was gorgeous. The hottest guy in school, in my book. Anyway, it seemed after years of lusting after him, he began to notice me. Really notice me. And boy, it felt good. He began following me everywhere I went. He’d follow me home, though I could never see him, I knew he was there, I could feel it. And so, we began to talk. We talked a lot, but only outside of school. Every night, he’d wait outside my window, and we’d stay up talking the entire night. Sometimes he’d even sing to me, and he had the nicest voice ever. Finally; he decided to proclaim his love to me at school.

He waited until lunch time, and took a microphone with him, and stood on a table in the middle of the cafeteria. Embarrassed, I had run to the bathroom and locked myself in the stall. But even from there I could hear it. His voice. Oh, his voice. He announced to the whole school that I was his one true love. I was so embarrassed, I faked being sick and went home. To my surprise, he followed me home. But instead of being romantic, he became obsessive. Everywhere I went I’d hear his voice. In the grocery store he’d speak to me through the sound system instead of the music playing. He’d talk to me through the radio, no matter what station I chose. He spoke to me through the tv. He even read aloud to me and changed the words a bit whenever I’d been reading a book. I tried to drown him out with music, but even then he sang louder than the music. He began demanding things from me. He commented on my body when I changed or showered. Told me to come outside and meet him to hook up. For days I wouldn’t leave my house, let alone change or shower. I tried sleeping, but even then he’d scream at me to keep me awake.

Eventually, I had to return to school. Not that it did me any good. I was so exhausted from being unable to sleep, I found it impossible to concentrate. I was constantly falling asleep and failing all my classes.

Soon, my parents began to notice I was acting strange. They told me I wasn’t making a lot of sense and that I was talking to myself. They told me I had some sort of illness called Psychosis. Angry, I didn’t believe them, and ignored them. Later though, I began to get so angry, and act so strange, that they rushed me to the emergency room. HE was there. And I could hear him talking to me the entire time. A nurse came and talked to me, and tried to tell me that I had Psychosis, but I could hardly hear her over him yelling that she didn’t know hat she was talking about, that she was lying. Later my parents told me they thought it was a good idea to live in the hospital for a while, so they could monitor me on this new medication I was given.

As they said their goodbyes, leaving me in the hospital room, I felt angry and betrayed. How could my own parents leave me in some loony bin? I wasn’t insane, I was perfectly normal.

For a while, things were bad. Every night I’d have horrible nightmares with creatures coming up to me and trying to hurt me or rape me. But after a while, things started to get better. I stopped hearing HIS voice as often, and the creatures at night became less and less scary. I even made some friends, and as it turned out, not all of them were crazy. A lot of them were, though. Crazy, I mean. This one girl would always color all over her food, and another girl was always screaming at the top of her lungs in what they call the saferoom. There was even this one guy who never said a word, just paced around the room all day, staring blankly off into space.

Though I was happy to be feeling better, the medication did have one rather unpleasant side effect. They made me gain weight, quickly. Before I knew it, in a couple of months I’d packed on a good fifty pounds.

Anyway, if you’re wondering what caused me to live in the hospital, it’s because my dad found a suicide note on the computer. I guess I’d forgotten to close it off. Anyway, it’s a good thing he found it when he did, so I could get help.