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Sometimes it's hard to explain why you feel crazy, and other times, the ones you care about are the first to label you as such.
I suppose I was crazy before anyone started pointing fingers. They say children have an active imagination and that's why they have imaginary friends, so imagine everyone's surprise when my imaginary friends lost their childish charm and became full-fledged people, animals, insects and shadows that took any shape or form. And let's not forget the voices, the ones I could hear clear as day, but if you asked me what they said, I normally couldn't repeat it. Now, the ones that made it worse, were the voices disguised as a loved one. Although those times are rare, they are the most scary. Imagine your father calling you, telling you to "Come here, ______ come here". And when you stand in front of him and ask what he wanted and why he called you, his answer is "I didn't". Or imagine hearing your mother speak as you get into your vehicle and when you ask what she had said, she replies "I didn't say anything", although you clearly heard her voice despite not knowing what word or sentence she spoke.
Now, this may be easier for you to imagine. Imagine being in a public place, at school perhaps, and looking out the window to see a figure standing outside. You can describe them clear as day, and you turn to your friend or classmate and ask if they see them and their response is "no" or "see who?" Now, this person that you see, is clearly real. You wouldn't doubt it for a second if you hadn't of asked. You know how tall they may be, what they're wearing down to the color and texture. You could even paint or draw them if you wanted. But in that moment, that's when you question yourself, but upon looking back outside, that figure still stands, occasionally moving from foot to foot.
And there are times where these images are silhouettes. Dark figures which are somehow lighter than the darkness around them. They stand and stare with their solid black faces and occasionally move or squirm in place. You know these ones are not real, but they scare you nonetheless because their gaze is relentless. They stare and stare and you feel their gaze despite not looking at them. It makes you uneasy, nervous and anxious because you don't know what they are or what they want.
There are times when these realistic images are faded, almost see through despite the textures and detail on their forms. Whether it's a kitten coming out of your room and roaming across the living room, or a bug you watch scurry across the floor. These don't bother you as much as they're normally harmless, except for the monster that appeared that one time, who had arms longer then it's short body, in an even shorter tux. It reminded you of Mike from Monsters inc, the body shape was similar except it's realistic eye above it's curled smile. Despite barely seeing it, it's image is burned into your mind.
People say there's a "third eye", or your "mind's eye" and in these cases, you can't help but wonder if it's your imagination gone wild or if you're honest and truly insane. They may not be visible, but as you look at the window in your room, you feel the gaze of a teenage boy, arms crossed and angry gaze directed solely at you. You can imagine what he looks like as if you'd been looking at his photograph or had met him in person. You know his voice despite him never speaking. There's a lot of these images, various people with similar gazes.
But there's auditory hallucinations too. People talking, whether to you or someone else. Conversations are held between two figures that aren't real yet you hear every word but cannot remember what they said after they're done. There's some that hush after noticing you are listening. On a few occasions they'll tell the other that you are listening and you can feel their gazes on you. These voices can be heard anywhere, in many different tones, and your mind supplies you with the scenario they are painted in. The blonde woman who speaks to the slave man in your walls. How they're underground and she's helping him escape. Or the cowboy at your kitchen sink, resting against it as he speaks to the young boy beside him. The voice that beckons you in disguise as your father, or the whispers disguised as your mother. The breathing in your ears at night as the two skeletons lay on their sides, one on each side facing you. Their gaze is unnerving as they breathe in your ears. The screams you're not sure are from the children across the street or the suffering of someone in pain.
And then there's the music. You hear it through your headphones despite nothing playing, and sometimes it stops when your headphones are off. Other times it continues, getting louder as you leave your room and softer as you tread into the next before stopping randomly on a note that sounds like it needs to be continued. It always seems to be classical music, but sometimes it's stuff you'd hear on the radio, although that is the rarer of the two.
The nickname psychopath, given lovingly by your friend rings true as your therapist recommends you participate in a study for "Psychotic symptoms in teens and young adults". All of that in addition to the multiple pills you take each day to function and be "normal", are simply reminders of how fucked up you feel you are.
And although the hallucinations don't bother you most of the time, you're used to them, they're still a constant reminder that there's something not right going on in your head.