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The first time I thought I was Jesus, I imagined people from all over the world coming to stand below our balcony in Hollywood, and clamoring to be near me. I imagined the rich and poor would all come to be healed from whatever ailed them. The voices I heard told me not to let the world know that I was Jesus or I would never be able to live a normal life. That’s what the voices said.

The voices.

Being psychotic and hearing voices is like living inside of a fantasy novel, one that changes from mystical to a thriller in an instant. Each piece of information you are exposed to becomes part of the story, so the story that only exists inside your head, takes its plot twists and turns from the real world around you. The delusions are complex, at times pleasing, and at other times, terrifying.

For instance, the second time I thought I was Jesus, which was a totally different delusion than the first time I thought I was Jesus, all of the information I would hear from the television would become a part of my delusions.

If there was a report about the war, then that became a part of the end of the world scenario I was having delusions about.

Someone was murdered? I wasn’t surprised, because the end times would be violent.

If there was news about the stock market crashing, I would attribute it to the new economy that was coming.

Connections were made instantaneously and the delusions kept growing ever more complicated and detailed.  The story, or in this case, delusions, grew organically from all that was actually happening around me.

During a psychotic episode the mind is able to create such elaborate and incredible delusions that even the most seasoned artists couldn’t portray the complexity in writing, painting, music, or sculpture all the twists and turns and incorporation of so much information that is the result of psychosis.

I once saw a therapist that said, “I envy you for going through something I have never gone through, for knowing something I may never know. You have experienced something incredible.”

I stopped talking to him at that moment, and never went to see him again. Envy is foolish under most circumstances, but to say you envy the person who has been psychotic is beyond foolish, it is to wish upon yourself a tortured mind.