Insanity: A Short Story

When I was a child, I heard voices, some would sing and some would scream. I 'd sit for hours staring into an open flame, there was something in it that had a power, I could barely tear my eyes away. When I was 16, my senses fooled me, thought gasoline was on my clothes. I knew that something would always rule me. I knew the scent was mine alone. When I was 17, I thought it had all ended, the demon, the screaming, the voices, and the insanity of it all. I was wrong. There was no escaping my demons grip, the fire burned inside me. The demons inside of me had taken over. I can 't control them. I never could. This one demon keeps possessing me, making me do unspeakable things that I would never dream of doing. It takes me over and I can

The fire and the demons burned inside me, I needed a way out of the insanity. A humming began in my head, the giggling from my mouth...I knew a way out of this madness. The blades, always around my neck, swinging freely on a chain was the answer to all of this. My back is leaning against the wall, tears streaming down my face while giggles spurred from my mouth. I had the look of pure insanity but sanity, all at once. An idea sprung to life in my insane mind, fire, the one thing that I was always interested in should burn my corpse in this old home. I stood, pulling an old matchbox from my back pocket, I always kept a matchbox on me. It was comforting to me in a way, kind of like a newborn with it’s mother. Standing alone in the home, I lit each match slowly, throwing them in the middle of the room. I observed, each time I watched the flames leap and hiss, always reaching feverishly out for me, trying desperately to grab and hold onto my fleeting shadow. And oh, how beautifully they swayed, beckoning me, enticing me, and the days of my childhood, I looked away. But this day, was the day I chose to take a step, and reach out with my ghastly colored hand and let it be immersed in the raging flames. I finally let the blazing lips kiss my hands. A smile was brought to my lips as I pulled away, taking the blades from my neck. The blades were in my hands, but my smile slipped away. This is not what I wanted, this is what the demon inside me wanted. I threw the blades

I never realized the word hope. I lost all of it until I saw the man who would forever change me. He picked up my broken body from the ground after my house burnt to ashes all because of me. He smiled and made a joke, showing off his adorable dimples. He was a firefighter, a beautiful man helping a broken girl. He visited me every day at the hospital and even in the psychiatric ward, always making jokes about how he would be so happy to have me at his home instead of in a place that smells so clean. The day I was released, he took me to a wishing well. At the bottom of the wishing well there were hundreds of pennies, quarters, and any type of money you would throw into one. I had stopped to glance down at them through the clear water - each one held a heartfelt wish or prayer. Each one represented pain and hope. He beside me dug a hand into his pocket and pulled out two quarters, the smallest change he had and tossed them in, watching them both sink, joining the others. "This is how we are," He mused, "all of us are needing hope, even if it 's just money in a well." He looked back at me with the adorable smile of his and said “ When there’s no one there for you, know that there is still love in the world for you. Know that life gets better, with each step you take. Those walls you have around you may be too thick to breach, always stay strong, perhaps those walls are there to protect you. There is a beauty for you ahead, just know there is, I know there is. There