They call me sick in the head...

The voices won't stop. They echo through the corridors of my mind, day and night. Sometimes they whisper, sometimes they scream, but they're always there. Always watching. Always waiting.

The doctors say I'm getting better, but how can they know? They can't see what I see. They can't hear what I hear. The shadows on the walls... they move when no one's looking.

Welcome to my reality. Or is it yours?

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