An excerpt of something I thought of earlier at work. My aunt was one of those ‘crazy’ people, a girl who saw an entire world we don’t see. She died eventually, the doctors never figured out what was wrong. One of my biggest fears as a child was that I’d end up like her.

The entire piece is rough, about 1000 words long. I’ll polish it later. This is the ending.


I shake my head when they ask if I want to go home. I like the white walls and the white bed and the simple talk. It’s all there is for me now. This is my fantasy. My heaven has white walls and a narrow bed. My hell has color and noise and things reaching out for me.

What they don’t realize is that once you stop seeing, you become invisible. You disappear. That’s how ghosts are made really. It’s because they closed their eyes to everything and just faded away.

Someday I’ll just float up from my bed and float through the world and no one will ever see me, because I’m blind to everything.

I’m not crazy. I’m cured. My dreams are gone, my fantasies, my nightmares. I’m a child, unthinking, uncaring.

My mind is white.

I’m not crazy anymore. I think I’ll live forever now, just behind your vision as one of those things only the crazy people see.


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