I Didn’t Know

“You are the chosen one” said the voice. The voice of god sounded like a raging father trying to knock some since into their child. “I’m chosen? What does that mean, God? I asked the voice. No answer was given. I stood quiet until I heard him again. The raging father that wanted me to be the savior of the world. I believed it to be true because I either wanted to fulfill my egos wishes or I so desperately wanted to feel important. He repeated himself, again.

Days passed by, and I entered the walls of the psych ward about thirty minutes from home. “They want to kill you because you are chosen” said the raging voice of god. “You have a duty to fulfill you must get out of there and join the elites” said the voice of god. “How?” I replied, again no answer. I could feel the anger in me begin to dwell up god spoke to me about how ugly the world was when I got out on good behavior. He told me things like we aren’t meant to live this way and famous people are evil.

Seven years pass by, and I can still hear the voice of god telling me things only I want to believe. Sometimes I believe the thing it told me seven years ago when I first got a mental illness. Sometimes I believe I’m chosen. Maybe I just want to think I’m special. Or maybe I’m just a a lunatic thinking delusional things about myself.

I didn’t know what I needed until I met him. He was the kindest soul and he struggled the same way. He was extremely honest about what he went through and he became my best friend. I met him at the Behavorial health center where I had therapy and saw a doctor for my illness.

I really began to love him, but I didn’t know how hard it would be when the world tore us apart. We made each other laugh and cry and love. But we also had minds that ran its own course, we were such sensitive beings we didn’t know how to live in this evil world. We decided to try and live a normal life that healthy normal people live.

When I got pregnancy I was hopeful of being a good mom and having a loving family despite the worst possible thing. I thought god was on our side. Until, the baby came out with the same diagnosis and a non verbal autism that needed special attention. We had hoped the child would be non-neurodivergent, but he wasn’t.

We loved him with all that we could. He took off one day when one of us left the door open and he was no where to be found. We looked everywhere throughout the neighborhood. He was no where to be found hysterically crying we both called the cops.

Days went by, and still he was now where to be found. I blamed myself. He blamed himself. We both hated life. We had already hated it before until we met each other but this, this was a tragedy. Everything I had hoped for slipped between my fingers and I wanted to die all over again.

A week later, a cope shows up at the house without my little boy. He said if he could come in. I started to get paranoid and my hope shattered. I hate to tell you guys this but your son was found and because of your disabilities, we can not give him back to you. My heart sank into my chest and the voice of god came back.