Delusions of grandeur

All my life, I’ve been told I was crazy. I’ve gone to mental institutions and seen psychiatrists. Done therapy, took classes. I have a number of clinical diagnosis, from ADHD to bipolar. Depressed and antisocial. Those fuckers even told me that I was a paranoid delusional, imagining situations of them against me. Making up how people blame me for fucked up situations and then hate me because of them. I once told a therapist that I believed that there was a group of people who wanted to see me fail. Who basically hated me and would cheer my mistakes and bask in my unhappiness. I didn’t mean that there was like a club who had meetings and paid dues and shit, just that there was plenty of people who wanted to see me fall and smiled at my misfortune. I have had disturbing reoccurring dreams my entire life which don’t feel like dreams at all, feeling more like a premonition of days to come. I’ve experienced all kinds of psychosis throughout my adventures and while I’m no expert I am somewhat knowledgeable when it comes to insanity. It used to really bother me when they would call me crazy, I mean I went to a mental institution because they thought I was crazy and I hated it there so I was sensitive to the threat of having to go back there. The mental institution is where I developed my addiction to pills and learned about my love for intoxication. It’s was not a healing place, causing a lot more problems then it ever resolved. So I didn’t like to be called crazy, and I’d trip when they did. But with age comes wisdom and with time it’s been harder and harder to convince myself. In fact the evidence just continues to pile up pointing towards insanity. Somewhere along the line, even with all the negative assholes pointing out my flaws, I became convinced that I was made for more then this and was destined for magnificent adventures on my path to glory. I guess maybe I wasn’t satisfied with just being some peon stumbling through life and so I created these delusions of my greatness and importance. Imagining dreams of my future in order to survive the fact that I wasn’t really anyone at all. That I wasn’t important and that there would be no glory. But then there would be these moments, coincidences I’m sure, but strangely pointing towards the dreams and so strengthening my insanity. Weird moments that I couldn’t explain yet would solidify the possibilities of my greatness. I’ve got some pretty insane delusions ranging from apocalyptic end of days martyrdom to actually being able to grow wings out of my back and fly. I know these things sound crazy and chances are I’m insane but that doesn’t stop me from believing in them. And the fact that I do believe in their possiblity drives me to look for them in all things, searching situations for I don’t even know what and possibly wasting valuable time on things that are never going to happen, on things that couldn’t possibly happen. I wish I could see the future or I could find some sign that would point me towards wherever it is I’m supposed to go or towards whatever it is I’m supposed to do. But maybe I’m not supposed to go anywhere. Maybe I’m not supposed to do anything. Maybe I’m not special at all, just another clog in the wheels of life, and so I’m just inventing my own importance to avoid feeling like the loser I actually am.