The beginning of a blog...

I had been trying to talk to spirits my whole life, and then slowly they started to talk back. At first I thought it was my good hearing, hearing conversations through the walls. I would stay up at night thinking I could hear my roommate talking about me in the other room. Then the lack of sleep pushed me over the other edge.

An edge I somehow knew I had. I remember thinking that I couldn’t handle staying up every night like other people did, not that I didn’t. I stayed up at night to three every night of my freshmen year, trying to connect with something out there. I would get up at 7:30 am the next day and be fine.

I guess I finally got what I had asked for, I had worn down my brain, and soon after the voices started keeping me up at night I started to feel different. My roommate had often called me insane, and I felt I was, but I didn’t know what to do.

My big college review had just pasted and my mind was picking up speed. I could hear the reviewers picking apart my work, and from their criticism a flood of ideas and inspiration came roaring in.

Then the night came, the night that I thought I heard three people pulling demons out of me, they went over my life inch by inch just as the reviewers had, but in the place of inspiration was shame. I didn’t really sleep at all that night. The next day I ended up in a hospital, and I was diagnosed as Bipolar type I, it was a long time before my diagnoses was changed.