Very realistic is my name. The Realists of realists. Everything in this world is predetermined and down to the birds moving and the trees in the wind. Nothing you do is different. I am scared to death of what waits for me. Please God don't shoot! He hangs out in the clouds above with this giant gun pointed at me. Every movement counts. I feel like hurting myself. I already did. Thoughts swirl like the galaxies of the Universe. The anxiety is so severe I can't deal with it anymore. The voices telling me to hurt myself, the visions of aliens visiting this planet. I don't know how to fight. it is absolutely scary as hell. I feel like giving myself brain damage so I don't understand the stress. As people can tell surrounds, everything including the economy is great. I have been crying my head off just like my pet bird, he cries as well. My Loxapine has cameras, tracking chips, and nanobots that release poison into my system so I have to check each pill. If I don't find enough that doesn't have all these things, I just don't take them. I want everything to go away. There are many thoughts right now. Frozen sun. Blue and green aliens threatening this planet and wanting me to fight, the government threatening me and my family, many other things I won't get into here because it is weird and have insight into it. Sorry. Very sorry. My parents doesn't want me to bang my head against the wall so I am just punching myself in the head. I also cut myself. I have been cutting at least once a week since this started. My hair itches.