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Sanity. Now there's an interesting concept.
There are only two kinds of people. Those who are sane, and those who are not. But who decides who is sane? Who is to say, “You’re insane!” and mean it? Who is it that judges others, and locks them up if it’s convenient?
It’s the ‘sane’ ones.
It's the ones who don't spend hours mumbling to themselves, or staring at walls. It's the ones that can hold a conversation longer than ten seconds. It's the ones that can go years without threatening to kill someone and meaning it.
But who decides who the sane are?
The sane. Because they're the ones in control of their bodies and their minds, so obviously they are the ones in control of everyone. They are the ones that choose who is safe, and who is dangerous.
Anything can make you insane. Isn't it weird? If you get stuck in a quiet room with nothing but the sound of a clock, you hallucinate. You begin to see weird things, and hear the voices you normally drown with your own thoughts. Your demons become free, and there's nothing to keep them from telling you what you already know, but aren't willing to admit. And all this is cause by silence and the clock.
Hehe, but if you are thrown into a loud situation, sometimes your mind becomes overloaded. The noise is just too much, and your head feels like a blue screened computer. And, for just a moment, you think about making them all shut up. You think about making things quiet again. Maybe smashing the thing that's making the noise, maybe yelling at the person to be quiet for a moment, or, maybe, something a little more… violent.
But that's something that only insane people do, and you're not insane. But, no, you don't get to decide that. You can't tell if you're safe for the sane people to be around. That's for the doctors, and the scientists, and all the people with the funny titles to decide.
They're the ones that choose to give you medicine that doesn't work, or works too well. They're the ones that say that you shouldn't ever be alone anymore, because you're ‘a danger to yourself.’ Those are the ones that come to your house one day and drag you away to some far off place, just because you lost your temper and threatened to harm that child for not quieting down.
But does it even matter anymore? Nothing is real; at least, not in the way the sane people think. Nothing matters, because nothing actually happens. It's all just a little game. And no matter what the ending is, it all never really ends.
They had promised. People don't break promises, but they did. They knew what they were doing, but they did it. Over. And over. And over. And over. And over again! They had lied to you. Made you trust them. Made you weak.
They broke your mind.
Yes, you're broken. It's obvious. It has been. It always will be. You know it, they know it, even your little brother knows. He never told you, though. He always thought you could get better.
He is too naive.
Even you know there’s no hope for you now. You're just too far gone. You can hear the whispers of your past regrets but you can't do anything about it. Everything you've ever done wrong is being told back to you.
You let them do it.
You let them kill everyone.
You let them kill him.
You could've stopped it...
But you didn't.
You just watched it happen, and didn't act until it was too late.
Useless.
Worthless.
Screw up.
Of course, the voices were right. They always were. Except for the one time they were wrong.
The whispers had once said that it was over. Everything would finally move on. That it was a happy ending.
They never made the same mistake again.
When it's quiet, you always like to think. Now, you think it's funny. It's hilarious, even. Now they wanted to move on. Now they wanted to leave everyone alone. Now they were satisfied; but at what cost?
You are the cost. You. Your sanity. Your mind. But, apparently, that was something they were willing to pay for the satisfaction of their curiosity.
It's scary, not knowing whether the Right Now is a dream or if it's reality. You always mix the two up, but there's one sure-fire way to tell if you're dreaming: You're with your brother, and you're both happy. Those moments are always dreams. Reality is boring. Nothing ever happens. And yet somehow…. Most of the time you're not sure if you're dreaming or not. You still have the faint hope that they will do it again; just once more. Then you could try again.
But you know they won’t. And now, you're stuck leading a miserable existence.
You don't even get to leave the room, anymore.
But that's your fault, isn't it? You're too dangerous for even the other insane people to be around. At least that's what the nurses tell you. They're the only ones who talk to you, anymore, when they talk to you at all, besides your voices. But even then, your voices are just white noise. Nothing but the ramblings of a guilt-ridden mind.
It's odd. The voices in your head and the nurses say similar things, but when the nurses tell you what you already know, it stings. It shouldn't. You've already accepted that you're a failure. You already know that you've abandoned your brother by letting yourself fall apart this way. And yet…
It always hurts when you hear it.
When you were still allowed to socialize with the other insane folks, you had noticed something strange: The others hurt themselves when they couldn't remember if they were alive; but you hurt yourself to remind you of why you wanted to be dead.
You can't hurt if you're dead. There's no voices, no failure, or even success. You just are, but yet-- aren't.
The nurses had taken that away from you, though. You can't remember how if feels to move your arms, anymore. The straps are always so tight, you can barely breathe. But it's okay; when you go into a ‘fit’ as the nurses call it, you pass out quite quickly.
What does silence sound like? Your head is so full of noise that silence seems like science-fiction. What would you be without your voices? They are the only ones who are there for you. Everyone else leaves at some point. Even Papyrus.
He only visited you once since you came here. You don't remember much from that day, but the voices tell you something bad had happened. And it was your fault. But isn't it always? What had happened? You only remember seeing him, then-- nothing.
Does it even matter, though? It's not like this is at all real. It's not permanent. The kid will get bored or get killed. It always happens; it's just a matter of time.
Just a matter of time.
Just a matter of time.
Just a matter of… time.
Time is weird.
It can speed up, or slow down and you can be none-the-wiser.
But no matter how it flows, you'll always be stuck right here. Lost in your head, desperately trying to find the light in the darkness that has surrounded your SOUL for-- years? Decades?
It doesn't matter. Time is just an illusion. The world is just an illusion. Everything is just an I L L U S I O N.
...
That's why it's so easy. It's not real. It's all fake. It doesn't matter what happens now when it will all be erased later!
It doesn't matter that you bite the nurses every chance you get. It's all just a game.
It doesn't matter that you hold your breath until you pass out at least twenty times a day. It's not real!
It doesn't matter that you've cracked your skull open by smashing it into the wall. It'll all RESET soon anyways!
It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter…
...
... and yet, it does.
But it's already too late.