Post by Heavens Exile on Mar 5, 2016 0:50:57 GMT -8
I've been hearing the noises for a few weeks now, it started off as mild… Buzzing. I noticed it after I had finished my nightly routine; searching for food near the restaurants. I don't remember if I had even eaten that day. Come to think of it, I don’t recall a lot of things these days. It’s like my memories have been eaten away.
Now it seems as if there are actual muffled words; speaking to me in a tone that is just past the point of understandable. Maybe it's a different language. I can’t be too sure, but it's like words, but not. I'd swear it was aliens, I really would, but I don’t believe in them. I'd seen plenty in my time being homeless. I wasn’t always homeless, a street crawler, mind you. I used to have a career, not a job, but something I intended to stick with till retirement. Obviously my life didn’t work out that way, but that's beside the point; although it does lead to my present homelessness… maybe even my present situation. Have I finally gone over the edge? Are the voices I'm hearing a psychotic break long over due?
I'm scared to see a physician, since I have no coverage and I don’t have any money to pay for a visit. People look at me like I have a disease now, I noticed. The looks started a few days ago; some people even move to cross the street now, avoiding me like the plague. I think I even disgust myself. I can feel my own skin crawling when I think of myself now. I haven’t actually looked in a mirror for... Has it been a year now? No, I think it’s been at least three years since my life went downhill. Two years since I even bothered to try drag myself out of this pit anymore. It was useless to even try.
There they are again; the voices. No… not voices. Scratching. The noise is definitely scratching. Is something following me? It sounds so close, like its right beside me. That's it, I'm going to the free clinic, I can't stand this. My skin crawls when I even think of someone civilized seeing me like this; fallen so far from grace. What will they think when I tell that I’m hearing things? Will they be shocked, or will they even care? Should I even bother?
My indecisiveness carries on while my feet lead me, almost by instinct, to the clinic. I can feel my skin crawling, I swear, almost literally, as I walk through the doors. I'm getting antsy; I hear the gasps, the whispers. They recognize me, I know they do…
I take a look around, trying to be casual. Wait… none of them are even looking at my face. They’re staring at a point just beyond my face, and I turn quickly. I knew something was following me. I just knew it… but there's nothing there. I turn to look at the people again, and it’s like they were looking at the back of my head and their eyes are too slow, or their minds too slow to process whatever it was they had seen. Taking a breath, I decide to ignore the people and just head straight to the receptionist, who gasps before a look of utter revulsion crosses her face.
Leaning back from me as if trying to politely keep as far away from me as possible, the woman raises her eyebrows, whether in annoyance, impatience or revulsion, I don't know. I'm getting itchy now, and I reach up to scratch my face, in front of my right ear. “I think I need to see a doctor.” My voice is shaky, and I'm feeling anxious, now more than ever.
“Miss, I think you’ve needed a doctor for some time now.” The receptionist seems completely shocked as she speaks. “How long have you avoided health care?”
“You don’t understand, I haven't been avoiding anything, it's that I'm not covered and can’t afford to see a physician…”
“Miss, I really think you should have gone to a doctor regardless. I’ve already paged an ambulance for you. They will be here momentarily.”
I shake my head frantically, “No, I can’t afford that, I just wanted to talk to the doctor about how I'm hearing things. Things that don’t make sense.”
“You mean you can HEAR them?” The receptionist looks horrified. “And you didn't think it was imperative to see a doctor? Had you gone to see one, I think the damage would have been repairable, but this…” She gestures to my head, “I can’t see how this can be fixed now.”
“I can’t be fixed, I screwed up my life to the point of no return, and now you’re telling me even psychiatric help won’t fix anything?”
The woman gives me an incredulous look, shaking her head slowly, as if she can’t believe something. “You mean, you came to be in this state, and you don't even know?”
What state? My thoughts feel muffled now, and the scratching noises are louder. “I don’t understand…”
“Miss…” She shakes her head, and I'm left feeling bewildered for a short moment. “Maggots, it looks like, and she didn’t even know...” She is no longer speaking to me, but to someone behind me. I turn around, and there are the paramedics, looking as if they want to lose their dinner.
I'm feeling anxious again, but I don’t have to wait long till the male paramedic speaks, a slight tremble in his voice. “Ma'am, do you know what happened to your head?”
My head? I reach up, my hand touching my miraculously still smooth face, and I look at him, shaking my head slightly. “What do you mean?” My hand travels across my cheek, and ventures into the area where my ear should have been. Instead, my hand moves over moist, exposed flesh. My breathing picks up a panicked tempo as I frantically lift my other hand and feel around the entirety of the back of my head.
No hair, no scalp. Nothing but exposed flesh with something writhing beneath my fingers. I feel the panic bubbling inside my chest. I clench my hand into a fist, grabbing some of the writhing things in my fingers. The panic explodes and I scream when I see what is clenched in my hands. Maggots. At least a hundred in each fist, along with bits of my flesh.
Not imaginary. The voices in my head, they were speaking to me. The scratching I heard, it was the insects writhing as they ate away my skin, worked their way into my ears and nested in my skull.
I knew I felt my skin crawling. I wasn’t insane after all… it really was voices in my head…
Now it seems as if there are actual muffled words; speaking to me in a tone that is just past the point of understandable. Maybe it's a different language. I can’t be too sure, but it's like words, but not. I'd swear it was aliens, I really would, but I don’t believe in them. I'd seen plenty in my time being homeless. I wasn’t always homeless, a street crawler, mind you. I used to have a career, not a job, but something I intended to stick with till retirement. Obviously my life didn’t work out that way, but that's beside the point; although it does lead to my present homelessness… maybe even my present situation. Have I finally gone over the edge? Are the voices I'm hearing a psychotic break long over due?
I'm scared to see a physician, since I have no coverage and I don’t have any money to pay for a visit. People look at me like I have a disease now, I noticed. The looks started a few days ago; some people even move to cross the street now, avoiding me like the plague. I think I even disgust myself. I can feel my own skin crawling when I think of myself now. I haven’t actually looked in a mirror for... Has it been a year now? No, I think it’s been at least three years since my life went downhill. Two years since I even bothered to try drag myself out of this pit anymore. It was useless to even try.
There they are again; the voices. No… not voices. Scratching. The noise is definitely scratching. Is something following me? It sounds so close, like its right beside me. That's it, I'm going to the free clinic, I can't stand this. My skin crawls when I even think of someone civilized seeing me like this; fallen so far from grace. What will they think when I tell that I’m hearing things? Will they be shocked, or will they even care? Should I even bother?
My indecisiveness carries on while my feet lead me, almost by instinct, to the clinic. I can feel my skin crawling, I swear, almost literally, as I walk through the doors. I'm getting antsy; I hear the gasps, the whispers. They recognize me, I know they do…
I take a look around, trying to be casual. Wait… none of them are even looking at my face. They’re staring at a point just beyond my face, and I turn quickly. I knew something was following me. I just knew it… but there's nothing there. I turn to look at the people again, and it’s like they were looking at the back of my head and their eyes are too slow, or their minds too slow to process whatever it was they had seen. Taking a breath, I decide to ignore the people and just head straight to the receptionist, who gasps before a look of utter revulsion crosses her face.
Leaning back from me as if trying to politely keep as far away from me as possible, the woman raises her eyebrows, whether in annoyance, impatience or revulsion, I don't know. I'm getting itchy now, and I reach up to scratch my face, in front of my right ear. “I think I need to see a doctor.” My voice is shaky, and I'm feeling anxious, now more than ever.
“Miss, I think you’ve needed a doctor for some time now.” The receptionist seems completely shocked as she speaks. “How long have you avoided health care?”
“You don’t understand, I haven't been avoiding anything, it's that I'm not covered and can’t afford to see a physician…”
“Miss, I really think you should have gone to a doctor regardless. I’ve already paged an ambulance for you. They will be here momentarily.”
I shake my head frantically, “No, I can’t afford that, I just wanted to talk to the doctor about how I'm hearing things. Things that don’t make sense.”
“You mean you can HEAR them?” The receptionist looks horrified. “And you didn't think it was imperative to see a doctor? Had you gone to see one, I think the damage would have been repairable, but this…” She gestures to my head, “I can’t see how this can be fixed now.”
“I can’t be fixed, I screwed up my life to the point of no return, and now you’re telling me even psychiatric help won’t fix anything?”
The woman gives me an incredulous look, shaking her head slowly, as if she can’t believe something. “You mean, you came to be in this state, and you don't even know?”
What state? My thoughts feel muffled now, and the scratching noises are louder. “I don’t understand…”
“Miss…” She shakes her head, and I'm left feeling bewildered for a short moment. “Maggots, it looks like, and she didn’t even know...” She is no longer speaking to me, but to someone behind me. I turn around, and there are the paramedics, looking as if they want to lose their dinner.
I'm feeling anxious again, but I don’t have to wait long till the male paramedic speaks, a slight tremble in his voice. “Ma'am, do you know what happened to your head?”
My head? I reach up, my hand touching my miraculously still smooth face, and I look at him, shaking my head slightly. “What do you mean?” My hand travels across my cheek, and ventures into the area where my ear should have been. Instead, my hand moves over moist, exposed flesh. My breathing picks up a panicked tempo as I frantically lift my other hand and feel around the entirety of the back of my head.
No hair, no scalp. Nothing but exposed flesh with something writhing beneath my fingers. I feel the panic bubbling inside my chest. I clench my hand into a fist, grabbing some of the writhing things in my fingers. The panic explodes and I scream when I see what is clenched in my hands. Maggots. At least a hundred in each fist, along with bits of my flesh.
Not imaginary. The voices in my head, they were speaking to me. The scratching I heard, it was the insects writhing as they ate away my skin, worked their way into my ears and nested in my skull.
I knew I felt my skin crawling. I wasn’t insane after all… it really was voices in my head…