sometimes, it seems i've become dangerous.

i'm doing better off my pills lately then ever before. it's been over a month, and outside of the initial depression from the withdrawl, nothing bad happend for a long time. then the other night, the voices returned. they tortured me, as always. they took the form of people i love. using they're voices to spread the lies throughout my mind. my ears went hot, and my teath clenched. and i felt the strangest of emotions. the need to draw blood. not a furious want to fight. but a meek hunger, a unescapable demand filling up my system, for blood, for it's copper taste, it's smooth flow drizzling down my palms, dripping off the tips of my out stretched fingers.

sometimes i feel like if i could destroy someone else, then all my fear and anger would go away. and the voices would stop.
once this feeling passed i imediately went home and searched my room for my empty persciption bottle. i called it in. but never went to pick it up.

i try to use the price as an excuse for not refilling it. it's a lie. there is something else. i've begun to enjoy the feeling. it was once too crippling to move, but now, my body has become a occustomed to it. it's become somewhat empowering. and it allows me to see things, clear, bright images that weren't there before.

i try to control it, but then someone pushes me, always the persistant emotional attack waged by the rest of humanity. almost like they want me to hurt them. they call for it, plead me to bleed them dry. when i was young there was nothing i feared more then to hurt other people. now my strongest fear is incarceration, but now even that fear fades. everything that once kept me in line is fading.

i lay on my bed, dreaming, seeing entire cities burning, i hear the screaming, feel the fear, and it inspires me.

i stare at my persciption bottle and think, maybe it's time that all the shit i've let slide over the years was paid back in full. it was humanities wickedness that created this feeling in my stomach, maybe they all deserve me to truely come to life. perhaps they should all burn.

i've been medicated for so long, that the person i once was seems like a half forgotten dream. but now, i'm returning.

i do not fear my own death, or the death of others. i no longer fear that fire that grows in my belly. i no longer fear my illness. i do not shake at the sight of my insanity.

i am prepared to find out how deep the rabbit hole goes.

are you prepared to follow me? 1