Falling for a Psycho

Insanity runs in my family. Well, not insanity directly. Mental illness, I should say. Both of my parents spent time in a mental institute. My mom was depressive, bipolar and had ADHD. She still has bipolar disorder and ADHD, but the depression went away. She was very suicidal, and that’s the reason why she was in there. My dad is a necrophiliac, schizophrenic and bipolar. He still has problems with schizophrenia, and occasionally bipolar disorder. Of course I inherited some of the mental problems. I’m a schizophrenic, and I have RBD. It’s really rapid eye movement behavioral disorder, which means I unconsciously act out my often-violent dreams. I kick, scream, punch, grab, and even jump out of bed in my sleep. The episodes, as my psychologist who just so happens to be my mom says, happen towards the early morning hours since REM sleep is more common then. I’m also a pyromaniac, and that’s considered a mental disorder. I’m an arsonist. I’ve set fires intentionally before, and that’s gotten me in a lot of trouble. Now, my parents hide everything from me. Weapons, matches, and about everything else. My room is only a mattress and a sleeping bag on the floor. It’s a safety precaution.

So, my mom and dad are sending me to a mental asylum that has an education program. That way, I’ll be able to finish school, but I’ll be under the care of special doctors. Mom says it’s better and safer for me to be somewhere else. I’m classified as dangerous. I’ve been kicked out of seven high schools. I set one on fire once. I get out of punishment since I’m technically insane.

My “insanity” has totally scared every girl away. I’ve never has a girlfriend, and I’m almost 17. It’s really sad too, because I’m considered attractive by those girls, but my mental disorders freak girls out. No one wants to sleep with a guy who kicks, punches and screams in their sleep.

The “voice” doesn’t help either. Strangely, the “voice” that tells me to do stuff is a female voice. Strange, isn’t it? I’m a guy with a female voice telling me what to do. The voice tells me to do stuff in a sweet tone, but usually those aren’t sweet things that I’m being told to do. I’ve been told to kill my parents. That’s why I’m going to a mental hospital.

The place I’m going to is called the Nevada Institute for the Juvenile Criminally Insane or NIJCI for short. My habit of arson and violence makes me not only insane, but criminally insane. It’s a high security place that looks more like a prison than an institute. There are high, electric fences surrounding the brick buildings and huge watch towers at the gated entrance and guards that have guns. It’s a scary place.

It’s not just my parents who are making me go there. It’s the state police. I’m on house arrest until I go there, in two days. I have the GPS anklet and everything.

I’m allowed to take one personal item with me. That item is a picture of my parents and me at Universal Studios Orlando when I was seven. My parents are the biggest support for me, since they’ve both been in my shoes. They know how it feels when you have a mental disorder. I’m their only child. My mom got severe post-partum depression after I was born, so I’m the only child they want to have. Plus, I’m a handful. I’m insane and dangerous. In school, I was known as the hot bad boy who was criminally insane. It wasn’t like it is in the movies where the bad boy has girls swooning over him. The girls swooned over me until they found out I’m insane. Then, they run.

Mom and dad say that it’s better for me. They say that NIJCI is going to be good for me. They say that being there is going to help me. I’ll still see them on visitation days. I’m glad about that. I love my parents. They’re the only people who understand me.

This is going to be a good thing. Wait. It’s not. It’s going to be horrible. I’m going to basically be locked up in a prison with drug addicts, arsonists, and other insane people.

There’s definitely going to be no hot girls. That’s for sure. There will be girls, but they’re all insane. Criminally insane.