Psychosis, How Original

I believe I'm going mad.

My madness started out as dreams. Regular dreams that everyone has had. Facing a crowd naked. Flying 3 feet high and no higher no matte how much effort is put. Running with all strength on leaden feet. Things like that and many more.

I have a handful of dreams I remember, some of which date back to when I was an infant. Some I purposely imprinted in my memory for the sake of, well, memory.

But now I'm afraid for the dreams have been clearer lately. They're so hard to just toss aside the moment I wake. They're just too...real.

And I'm afraid. Because I feel like I'm losing my touch with reality. I feel so detached with everything around me. Like I'm so wrapped up in my fantasyworld and stopped caring about everything else. I've even convinced myself that these dreams have some significance in my daily doings. I remember names...searching for that illusion of hope, maybe.

I keep journals, old letters, things of the past that I may look upon to remind me of what I was. But even as I do so, I feel too distant from it. Like my past was just part of a dream.

I watch movies and fancy myself as one of them. I read books and immerse myself in that world. And I drown, oblivious to the chaos around me.

And I'm afraid. Because the movies seem more concrete than this...thing I'm leading everyday.

Even now, I think it's not me who's writing this.

I am mad.