Miserable little ones
I’m fine. I’m absolutely, positively, one-hundred percent fine. Why wouldn’t I be? For what reason would I lose track of my own sanity? Ah, certainly the only answer is that I wouldn’t. After all, I’m very aware of myself. From my birth marks to the freckles on my face and the placements of the moles on my neck... Why, I knew them all. For someone so in check with themselves... they couldn’t possibly be crazy, now could they?
Certainly, the doctor was confused. He must be new at his work. Perhaps, he’s never really seen an insane patient? Yes, yes, that’s why he’s called me what he has. He’s inexperienced, useless, incapable-- why was he here again? Should I take pity and forgive his miscalculations? Oh no, but this is his job. We shouldn’t forgive one for failing to do their part in society, now should we? No, no, no, no, not at all. Ahh really what useless people. They’re looking at me again.
That’s all they do.
Why are they doing that?
Did they trust that quack of a doctor? They did, didn’t they? What weak mental fortitude! To think that after a single diagnosis, they already act like this! What insolence-- and I used to associate with those people! Ahh, I’m regretting it already! For myself to mingle with such pathetic bodies... and for them to accuse me? No, no that wasn’t right at all. I’m perfectly okay, but they...!
Ahaha, I get it now. They’re the ones with the problem. What pitiful people! They must be unable to accept reality-- that’s why they’ve forced this claim of insanity on me! All of them, really... I almost feel bad. To be so clearly insane yet so delusional... How miserable of them.
Hahahah...
Such deplorable creatures!