We moved through a city of normals, soldiers in a secret war. We were the ghosts in a haunted house, the golem of myth. To the normal, we were just superstition, make-believe. Sometimes it felt like that to us too. To me, I was a woman who couldn’t be touched, in love with a man who wasn’t there. What was real?

Everybody in here keeps saying that I’m sane. What if they’re wrong?

I wanna fix him because he deserves to be healthy and he deserves to be happy. And then I wanna use him.

David, your whole life people have told you you were sick. What if I told you that’s a lie? What if I told you every memory you have of mental illness… the voices, hallucination… was just your power? And what if I could do more than just tell you? What if I could show you? Help you rewrite the story of your life?

Please keep talking so we can all pretend that our problems are just in our heads.