I wanted my notebook. It had all of my theories written in it about when the universe was made, Einstein's Theory about white holes, why the brain thinks about what it does, and various other things.

I was recently placed in Bayside. It's not as bad as I thought, but the people are mean. A nurse told me the other day that she thinks I might have to go another hour of therapy. Lady, I am fine. Why can't these people just see that? Jack came over again the other day. He told me that the country was spiraling out of control with riots and lootings and politics and such. I had seen that on the news, too. "I wonder why people can't just get along!" He frowns. "I know! I want it all to go away." I want Harrison to win." He seems to freak out in his head. "What! I can't believe you would say that! You know that Hampton should have won."

 I shake my head. "What!?" He gives a glare. "See you later, freak." He walks out the door, and I look around the room. Barbed wire outside the barred window. I whisper to myself, "Freak?" Is that what I really was? In the future, you never know, I could be considered a genius just as Aristotle, Einstein, and Galileo were. They at the time they couldn't have known, right?

I jerk my head back to the door. No. That could not have been Kate. I wanted to get up and go check, but alas, I was probably wrong. She wouldn't come to see me. After all, I was just a freak. At least, that's what Jack said.

Jack hasn't come back to see me in a while. It makes me kind of sad because I have nothing from home except for a few books that I borrowed from the hospital that I had read from home a few years ago. I went back for my weekly check-up to the main man, Dr. Tameron. He told me that I had developed some severity of anxiety. I wasn't surprised, I constantly pull all nighter's reading so that the Creepies don’t come. I know they aren't real, and it is just from my disease, but they seem so real. I don't tell my nurses that that is the reason I don't get much sleep. My books keep me accompanied most of the time. I feel a resonating relation to Robinson Crusoe. He is alone on an island, and things are constantly coming for him, and making him a target. Now, I start to shake every time I am around more than five people at a time. My palms grease themselves with sweat, and my foot begins to patter.

It's been a week, and now I sound as if I am journaling. Jack came back to visit. I hope we could old conversation like we used to, but that was not on his agenda. I tried to think back to what we used to talk about to spark an icebreaker or something, but I couldn't remember. I mean, my gosh, I don't have dementia. He told me that I was being a hermit sitting here in my room, reading all day. I told him that reading made me forget my issues, and even began writing some poetry. "Do you want to see it? It is a little hard to understand, but I think you might like it!"  He looked at me with a frown. "You are acting like a child showing their daddy a picture they drew in Pre-school. If you don’t get the hint, I don't care." I withdrew. More recently, I feel like I can't be happy.

Another Diagnosis

When I went back to Dr. Tameron, he said I was developing other mental disorders, and fast. He prescribed me six different medications. Some of the various on-sets include depression, paranoia, and OCD. He has tried to convince me that Jack won’t come in and kill me whilst I sleep, but that is hard to prove. He stares in my room all day and won't come in to talk to me. I always wonder why people always have differing opinions than mine… that has never been the case for me. I was allowed my notebook last week. I have begun working on a theory about how the electromagnetic spectrum travels and at which frequency the waves traveled on an average.

A few hours ago, my nurse came into the room and saw my jigsaw puzzle of papers scattered about my floor. She asked me f I was doing alright in a nervous tone. I keep getting worse, and I guess I made it too evident. "Don't be surprised if you're gone by tomorrow." She slowly back away. "Have you been taking your medication?" A laughed. "Of course! Why would you ask such a thing?" I hadn't told her that I threw them out of the window for the Creepies to eat. I thought that It would hold them off for some time, eating those instead of myself. She held up a zip-seal bag in front of her nose, it was filled with my pills. "How does that explain these Mr. Stuart?" My breath stopped. She was a Creepie. That is the only explanation. Other than that, they must have given them to her.

"How did you get those?" She gave me a look of exasperation. "I found them; Piled up on the ground outside." I moved my eyes to the floor, only to see that the stacks of papers were getting way too high. "You couldn’t have." At that moment, I realized I was about to get eaten, which wasn't that bad since I couldn’t find a purpose in myself other than my Philosophy. I creep closer to the bed, mold my hand around the bony spine of my notebook, and back onto my bed. "Back away. You can’t eat me today! I can give more of the food I promise!"

Behind the Creepie stood Kate, my love of four years. This time I knew she actually was there. Her eyes are oddly dark and gloomy. I call her. "Kate! Watch out! This is not a nurse. I am telling you!" The Creepie turns around, rotting skin and all. I can't stand to watch the death of my love. I close my eyes and make sure to squint them tight. No Light.

Voices were ensconcing me. They made me fearful, a frightening freak. Some were comforting though.

Many doctors rushed into the room with worried looks on their faces.  They came in, worried about sickness at the maze on the floor, which was just my work. "Mr. Stuart, please open your eyes." No one understood the danger in front of them. "You don’t understand. You are about to get eaten!" I tried to yell as loudly as I could so that they could hear over the voices. Finally, he yelled very loudly, and all of the voices silenced under him. "GET UP THOMAS!" I peaked through a cracked eye. The nurse was gone, I heard rushing footsteps going down the hallway. "It is gone! You did it, sir!" He held out a hand. I was frightened of betrayal from the possible monster. He said it was fine, but they all did, except for Jack. He was always there to point out that the malignant tone in his voice is always intentional. I accepted although I was reluctant.

He showed me to a room, where they asked me questions, and offered me more pills. "You will take the injection route without them." I definitely didn’t want that. "What did you see in there, Thomas?" I thought for a moment, I guess the time got away from me. "Thomas?" "Oh yes! Sorry. A Creepie was there. Jack was probably as well... Oh! I even saw Kate. I told her to watch out…" He began to nod, and take notes. I kept on as I had. "Voices were surrounding my head… I …." He looked up. "Your case is getting worse, Tom. Your situation could get to be deadly if you let it get any more controlling. I need you to know that none of that was real. The only thing that was real was the nurse." It couldn't be true. I saw and heard it with my own eyes and ears.

"Sir, I know they were real. Is saw and heard them!" His facepalmed. "Thomas Stuart. Listen to me.  You have Schizophrenia. Everything in the room other than the papers and the nurse was not there at all, ok?" I couldn’t move my head. This wasn't true. They had to be real, but what if they weren't? I reluctantly agreed and was given a stronger dosage of pills. They taste awful now, and I don’t know how I will continue to consume them.

Jack came to visit me today. I think he is real since he is a person and not a monster, (a reasonable theory to me, as I have many). We had another argument. "You know you don't have to take your pills, right?" Sigh. "I need them, Jack. They keep me from going insane." He gave me a look. "And you aren't? You still have all of those other mental issues, don’t you?" I looked down at the floor in self-disappointment. "I know, I know, but I can get better." He looked me square in the face. "You can not and you will not. You are a worthless freak and you know it. Just look at you and frail little arms and pale legs." That was it. I was tired of it. He walked out of my room, but I was headed somewhere too. I pull a page from my notebook and began writing. I opened up my windows on the opposing side of the room. Down deep in the earth below was a hole, a tunnel more like. As I descended it, my depression and angst seemed to fade to the walls, which didn't make me indignant in the slightest.

Dear kin and all whom this may abide,

Life is seemingly a tunnel. Although there is a light at the end of this tunnel, many potholes and rocks are jutting out of the walls and floor beneath. Due to unfortunate circumstances, I have gotten caught in a gaping hole. This hole leads down to darkness, with which I have become very familiar. I am finally letting my fingers release their grasp on the hopes of light and accepting the darkness of the crater. For many years, I have created theories about how the mind works and the reasoning for its choices. I have come to see the tunnel of darkness and light which it descends, and how others around may be able to assist. I have no idea what to call this theory. I guess, for now, we can just call it The Philosophy of the Evolution of the Mind.

Thomas Stuart