I don't care if you all think I'm crazy.
Ever since I was little, I talked to the stuffed animals, walls, my home, my real life friends' imaginary presences. Not usually out loud, but they were always there. And even though I never heard them reply because I'm not that crazy, I always could...feel their presences. And imagine what they'd reply.
A long time ago, I read in one of the later Anne of Green Gables books that a little boy who used to talk to rock people told Anne that his rock people didn't talk to him anymore, or else were losing interest in him.
I never thought it could happen to me. Didn't even consider it, and with good reason, too, because they had always been there-all the way until I went to "work" this afternoon.
But when I left the place my cooperative education was in, my head felt strangely empty. The character that had implanted itself into my mind was...gone.
I know I'd been complaining about him invading my brain and not being able to get him out, but I thought it was all in good nature.
And just now, when I looked around my room full of plushies and stuff that I always talk to (though less than when I was younger) and posters that I talk to all the time, my room felt empty. Painfully empty.
I brushed my Gaara plushie's hair gently and I felt unbearably sad.
I want it to be a false alarm.
In the last few hours, I've felt like I have a stronger grip on reality than I've ever had before.
If I'm sane for much longer, I'm going to go insane.