It rained today. I like the rain. The rain is the only thing that keeps them away. I sat at my window for hours today, just watching those little drops of water pitter-patter onto the ground. I smiled and pressed my hand against the window, pretending I was out there, that the rain drops were falling on my skin instead of the pavement of the basketball court my window overlooks.
My psychiatrist thinks that I have some sort of chemical disorder with my brain. She told me it was sort of like a car trying to run with water in the oil pan. Everything in the engine gets ground to bits. I don't think that's happening to me. I don't ever get headaches...
Why is it that people never believe you when you tell them something strange is going on? Are people incapable of seeing truth? Or is it that they just don't want to? Not when it means they have to do something, I guess.
Maybe she was right, though. Maybe this is all an illusion. Could it be that the rain doesn't really drive them away, it just gives me the peace I need to fight off my hallucinations? Why would I be the only one able to see them, anyway?
I guess doubt will always gnaw at my heart on these rainy days, when I don't see them. Good. At least I'll have a few opportunities to pretend I'm somewhat normal.
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