"When I was seven I remember banging my head off the beige-colored walls in my bedroom because the bugs on my brain were too annoying to talk to.
I don’t remember much about those years.
When I was fourteen I was sent to the hospital out of my will because I had over-dosed on my medication.
It wasn't until I was eighteen that I confessed my attempt at suicide to my mom and dad.
When I was sixteen I remember being too scared to tell my boyfriend the true reason for my medication.
I didn't like the cockroaches beneath my skin, why would he?
When I was seventeen an acquaintance saw me pacing back and fourth on the street and became worried, so he offered a ride.
Could he not see I was in an argument?
When I was eighteen I almost wrecked my car because I was screaming at my friend next to me because I was God. “I gave you life and I can take it away!”
He was living in Louisiana at the time.
When I was eighteen I had to withdraw from college because my professors were plotting an attack on the university.
I took my medicine.
I became numb.
I stopped taking my medicine.
When I was nineteen I screamed to a group of new friends to leave the premises because the demons surrounding us told me to stab my heart or they’d destroy my family.
My friend restrained me with a hug.
I didn't speak for twelve hours.
When I was nineteen I told my dad that I couldn't hangout with him because the ticking in my brain was too much to handle.
He begged me to go to the doctor.

My brain is not scattered; My brain is shattered."